


Farstorm Forest (Warcraft)

by Dinochicken



Category: Warcraft, Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Bondage, Chains, Consensual, Deepthroat, Demons, Draenei, Dungeon, F/F, F/M, Forced, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Gags, Gangbang, Human, Intense, Lots-of-Setup, Masturbation, Multi, Oral, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Story Arc, Story Driven, Stripped, Struggle, Teasing, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal, Warcraft - Freeform, World of Warcraft - Freeform, spidergag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2020-09-01 13:55:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20259175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dinochicken/pseuds/Dinochicken
Summary: Ayma of the Exodar is sent to cleanse a corrupt grove in Farstorm Forest and interacts with the various races of Azeroth, but even before her adventure into the forest itself begins she is noticed and marked by the Warlock Markon for his own desires and wants.[Prolouge] Ayma leaves the Exodar but not before saying goodbye (F Draenei x M Draenei, Consensual)[Chapter 1 - Farstorm Inn] Lots of setup and a steamy bath (Brief F Human x M Nelf, F Draenei Masturbation, Exploration, Setup)[Chapter 2 - Farstorm Forest] Ayma walks into a trap, wakes up chained in a dungeon (F Draenei x M Human, groping, Stripping, Non-Consensual, Bondage)[Chapter 3 - Farstorm Dungeon] Markon has his way with Ayma (F Draenei x M Human, Non-Consensual, Bondage)[Chapter 4 - Farstorm Cell] Markon orders his Succubus to clean Ayma up (F Draenei x F Demon, non-consensual, Bondage)[Chapter 5 - Demons] Markon gives Ayma to his Felguard and imp (F Draenei x M Human x 2 Demons, Non-Consensual, Bondage, Gangbang)[Chapter 6 - The Demon within] Markon gives in to his own inner demons (F Draenei x The beast within)[Epilogue] (TBD)





	1. [Prologue/Intro] Exodar

**Author's Note:**

> Im a longtime lurker and this is my first try at writing a spicy story! Tell me what you think!
> 
> There is a lot of fluff and teasing in the story so I intentionally repeated many physical attributes for those that like to skim through it as it contains many different types of mature content ranging from sweet lovers to intense non-consensual scenes but I recommend reading it in its entirety from beginning to end for the ride and story teases and setup early on!
> 
> There are also non-sexual fight scenes but they are not particularly graphic and are used to carry the story.

** Farstorm Forest **

**Prologue**

“I’ll be gone for a while, ‘Farstorm Forest’ is somewhere between the Arathi Highlands and the HinterlaaaAHHH!” Ayma gasped as the man went down on her, his tongue working its way through her folds, Ayma laid back in the bed pleasure flooding over her, hands squeezing the sheets as she stared up at the Exodar’s crystal ceiling, electricity shooting through her spine as the Draenei worked his way through her. 

“It will be my…. aahh, my first solo quest and um, uh…” _Damn Kolo was way too good for being only his second time _Ayma thought_. _

They were in one of the many abandoned rooms in the Exodar, rubble scattered everywhere, not idealistic but it allowed young Draenei like Ayma and Kolo to push boundaries in private and secrecy away from the immortal ones.

Kolo paused for a moment, looking up between Ayma’s snow-white legs. “Im sure you will be perfect at the job” then went back down lapping up her wet pussy, his powerful purple hands keeping her shuttering legs apart. 

Ayma was about to compliment him on how much he had learned since his first night, but her climax took her suddenly. Kolo looked up and grinned, he pulled back off the bed, stood up and dragged her still shaking body to the edge of the bed. Fully erect, Kolo positioned himself and angled her up and took her. Kolo pumped Ayma fervently but she couldn’t synchronize with his awkward movements. _Guess I still need to teach him a thing or two_. Ayma stopped him gently, not wanting Kolo to feel embarrassed. She made an excuse “I need to return the favor properly” as Ayma pulled him back on to the bed into a kneeling position. She went down and licked away the small stream flowing down his long member. Kolo groaned as she worked on the head, moving her way in slowly, bringing more and more of his great length into her mouth. 

He grabbed her horns, giving Ayma a questioning look.

_He likes my horns! _Ayma thought, giddy, trying to nod while still sucking him off. Her excitement turned to shock when he used her horns as handles to pull her further in, his member reaching the back of her throat. _I just gave him permission instead of thanking him _Ayma realized. Kolo pulled her back out to his tip, giving her a moment to gasp, before shoving her back down more forcefully, bringing her further down. She had deepthroated before but none of the other men had ever used her horns like this, taking the control away from her. 

Ayma loved it. 

She focused solely on her breathing as he brought her down again and again, increasing speed. Her chin started hitting into his hot sack. After a few more deep thrusts, he held her in place right against his legs. She could feel his climax coming and tried to back out but couldn’t do anything as his powerful grip on her horns kept her in place. At the last moment he shoved her out right as his climax hit, ropes layering her face. Kolo breathed out in ecstasy as he painted her face a few more spurts. He then rubbed the remaining dribbles on her forehead, finishing his masterpiece.

Exhausted, they both collapsed on to the bed together. Kolo wrapped Ayma into his powerful arms. “How was that?” he asked. 

_Some work to be done here and there…_ “Perfect, you’ll be a master in no time, you’ll be getting all the ladies wet with just a touch!” Ayma giggled. Kolo looked mortified, his conservative Draenei sensibilities kicking in. The ones that had lived before Draenor blamed Azeroth’s influence. She had her own standards as well, but like most other young Draenei, those boundaries were pushed. For Kolo it took a few whispers and promises. For her it started with her childhood sweetheart, the night after her birthday, marking her a woman two years before. _Monad…_ He was gone now. Ayma pushed away those gloomy thoughts, got up and entered the bathroom. 

“Leaving? You’ll be gone weeks, maybe months. Whatever will I do now?” Kolo shouted from the bedroom.

Ayma shouted back cheerily “You don’t have to stay with one woman, there are plenty of cute girls in the Exodar”. She could hear Kolo stumble, knocking over debris.

Ayma needed to leave quickly and catch the boat on time. Ayma washed quickly, getting her face and taking extra care with her horns. Kolo had offered to join her in the bath but that would he would have just distracted her. She quickly toweled off, threw on an undershirt then had Kolo help her with her gold priestly robes inlaid with purple. With the essentials already packed she slung her travelling pack and took off for the harbor.

At the entrance of the Exodar, Kolo caught up with her panting, he passed her a small piece of inscription parchment “My own work, it’s a fortifier scroll. It will bring you strength if things go dark”. Ayma slipped the parchment into a hidden compartment in her sleeve. Not before grabbing Kolo and pulling him down for a farewell kiss. Ayma set off on her journey to Farstorm Forest.


	2. [Chapter 1] Farstorm Inn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of setup and a steamy bath (Brief F Human x M Nelf, F Draenei Masturbation, exploration, Setup, Fish-out-of-water)
> 
> Ayma begins her travels with Farstorm Inn at the edge of Farstorm Forest where she is introduced to a more....liberal nature from the natives of Azeroth.

**Chapter 1**

{* Several weeks later, somewhere between the Arathi Highlands and the Hinterlands lies a forest inside a massive caldera. Ayma approaches an Inn standing sentinel before a vast green forest *}

It wasn’t easy for Ayma to be discreet when this world’s inhabitants hyper focused on her double curved horns, slender hooves and white skin. She thought she could blend in quietly as the inn was not only packed with humans, but nearly as many dwarves, a good number of Gnomes and a few night elves but she, of the Exodar was the alien amid the diverse crowd. Everyone stared at her, many conversations dying down. Ayma wanted nothing more to get out of the cold rain and her soaking wet priest robes and find a bed for the night… the way the men and even the women stared at Ayma seemed like they wanted her out of those gold and purple robes as well. Many whispers flooded across the room “Is that an Angel? She’s godlike. More beautiful then they say. I thought Draenei had bigger tits…Well she’s kinda short for a Draenei anyway…oi dwarves got them racks anyway. I feel like I can slay demons if she’s around. Look at those horns!” Ayma blushed at the last comment about her horns. 

Thankfully the staring returned to loud shouting and blustering as patrons returned to their ale and food, many still couldn’t help but steal looks at her though as she approached the human innkeeper who sported a stained shirt that was way too small for his potbelly. “Ello da’ling’! Welcome to the Farstorm Inn. The names Stowney. What can I do for you?” The innkeeper said in another one of those strange human accents. Of all the races of Azeroth, the humans were the most perplexing to Ayma. The sheer amount of variety and qualities in them ranged from embracing the light of the Draenei or the logic of the Gnomes yet they also could just as easily feed off their emotions like the vilest of Orcs or indulge in twisted schemes of the Goblins. However, the innkeeper understood the universal language of money as he saw her place down a few silver coins, quietly asking for a room for the night and a warm bath to be drawn. “it’s a busy night, so just like your height, you’re a bit short!” Ayma nearly rolled her eyes as he calculated a price for her. Ayma was 6’4”, taller than Stowney who was average for a human. Other Draenei and Night Elves would tower over the man. She couldn’t help but glance over at one of long-limbed Night Elf women who was currently teasing a drunken dwarf by slipping a hand down his trousers, laughing as she would snatch her hand away before the dwarf could grab hold and keep the hand in place. 

Ayma noticed a dark figure in the corner. His black and purple cloaked covered most of his body but showed his muddy boots and his shadowed eyes staring at her intensely under his hood. A chill went up her spine as she looked away, different types of humans indeed.

The innkeeper added an extra silver and a few copper coins to the total price, expensive but not unfair. He clipped off the features which did honestly sound great “We’ve got rooms of all sizes for our assorted crowd, from the scrawniest Gnome to the night elves or even the few Draenei that have graced Farstorm Inn in the past. I’ve gotcha in Room 19, it’s at the end and connected to a bathing room with 3 other rooms, but the doors have been magicked so only 1 can ever access the bathhouse at a time!” He quickly glanced across the Inn hall. “I’ll show you real quick your room and give you a quick tour da’ling” He hobbled around the counter and took her up a flight of stairs, the noise from the main floor quickly died down as he confidently led her down a hallway. “17…18…ah here we go, 19!”

He opened the door marked 19 as a woman’s voice came shouting out from within “Yes! Yes! Give it to me oh by the light!” head down in the bed, ass straight up as a Night Elf man pumped the human furiously from behind. The naked Night Elf saw a shocked Ayma first and yelped, embarrassed and rolled away to the side of the bed, grabbing for clothes. Face still down, she yelled “Hey why’d you pull out? ...oh, hello there!” she pushed up on her hands on to all 4s, large breasts hanging as she popped a smile, not at all embarrassed. 

Stowney was having none of it. “Get the fuck out of this room, what the hell are you doing in here Isabelle?” 

Isabelle scrunched up her face “erm…this is my room”, still on all 4s.

“Room 29 is down the other hallway” he yelled.

It started to dawn on Isabelle that she might have made a mistake “And I’m in…”

“ROOM 19!!” Stowney shouted, red faced. By that time the Night Elf had pulled pants on, slung his shirt and shoes over his shoulder and mumbled an apology on his way out. Ayma didn’t really know how to respond and Stowney was too busy yelling at Isabelle to get out.

Isabelle thankfully decided to get off the bed. She stood up and struck a pose, her dark red hair tumbled down past her massive rack, her hands balled up in fists on her hips. She was short, a sheen of sweat covered a powerfully built body with a 6-pack and fluids ran down her compact legs. Ayma had heard stories that humans and a few other races had hair in strange places, but Isabelle’s nether regions were shaved, a common practice. “Like what you see?” Isabelle grinned.

“Yes…no, get out!” Stowney shouted, red faced.

“I was talking to the goat girl” …Goat girl? 

Ayma realized she was staring and looked away, feeling as embarrassed as the Night Elf who was already out of site. “aw how cute, she’s shy” Isabelle finally walked through, still completely naked and confident. Stowney grabbed a fistful of her ample breast as she passed, they both shared a smirk and snicker with each other, then Stowney slapped Isabelle’s firm ass to motivate her to keep moving. Isabelle left but not before whispering to Ayma “Hey goat lady, I bet you have thousands of years of experience, but if you want to be truly daring and try something different, you know where to find me!” and walked off, completely naked and uncaring. Isabelle’s clothes were nowhere to be seen inside the room.

Stowney wondered out loud how old Ayma was, she just stared at him, face passive, not telling him she was only 20 years old.

His smile faltered then he decided to keep things moving. They entered room 19, Ayma wanted to get out of her wet robes and finally rest. Stowney didn’t seem to notice her discomfort and continued the tour. It was a simple room, with a rumbled bed, a nightstand, a mirror, a second door to the bathhouse, and a window overlooking a gloomy forest in the night. Lights from the inn barely scratched the surface, the deeper Ayma looked, the more ominous the dark forest felt. “least they didn’t make much of a mess” Stowney laughed to himself. Ayma just thought he was trying to make an excuse not to deal with the fact that there was a couple getting it down on that bed. 

Stowney gave her a tour of the bathhouse, her hooves clacked loudly on the tiled floor as he directed her to the massive square basin the middle of the floor, filled with many steppes and curves for what she assumed different sitting and laying positions. Stowney showed Ayma the cabinet made of the same white tiles next to the basin, a closet filled with towels and robes, a massive wall to wall mirror covering a side of the bathhouse with 3 other heavy oak doors leading to other rooms. Stowney explained “Your hours are every 3rd, just make sure you activate this switch and our gnomish technology will drain and refill the tub for you within moments, this switch controls heat, this one pumps air underneath and creates bubbles, towels and robes for all sizes in here courtesy of our local tailors!” he slid open a panel to a large closet full of white, fuzzy robes and towels “no stealing, if you want some, go to the tailors, not here. Oh, you ought’a check this out!” He showed her to a rack of Night Elf made dispensers, “shampoo, conditioner, soap, cologne, and perfume” he said pointing at each colorful, leaf engraved dispenser.

“And this?” Ayma asked to a few smaller, intricately designed dispensers in the corner.

“Ah never mind those da’ling, they don’t fit your prim lifestyle I would think, if your curious, just remember, smell it, don’t spill” Stowney said simply, then told her he had to get back to the front before she could inquire about his cryptic advice. He left but not before shouting over his shoulder the time for morning breakfast bell.

Ayma was left alone. 

_Prim Lifestyle_ she snorted, Ayma would be considered quite daring by Draenei standards, she had lost her virginity to her boy sweetheart when their curiosity turned into a deep desire, later Ayma quietly and boldly pursued interests with other daring young Draenei. The immortal ones were very conservative and were slow to adapt to Azeroth’s lifestyles. Her mother would have been mortified if she found out, her father was long dead.

She locked the door to her room from the hallway and dropped her small traveling pack by the nightstand. _Time to get out of these clothes_ Ayma thought. She pulled Kolo’s scroll and placed on her nightstand. Ayma tugged at a few hidden ties hidden with the folds of her robes letting it tumble to her hooves. 

She still had a lot of time with her hour in the bathhouse from the tour earlier. She entered the bathhouse and flicked on the gears for hot water. Water blasted into the basin and the bathhouse quickly filled with hot steam. She pulled off her undershirt and quickly stripped off her underwear, sighing in relief as her cold, clammy skin breathed in the hot steam. By the Naaru, she loved gnome plumbing.

As Ayma waited for the basin to fill she couldn’t help but check out her figure in the massive wall to wall mirror. Ayma was slender, her time to the priestly ways she had little time or need to really form the large muscles like her warrior or paladin counterparts required, excusing her to pursue a more feminine, athletic build. She took out the pins in her blue hair, letting the straight locks tumble down on her snow-white skin, reaching to her shoulders and collarbone. Ayma wished her breasts were larger, to be like other Draenei women, and that human Isabelle. At least they were firm and would not sag and were complemented by small, perky, dark blue nipples. 

The tub had filled completely and Ayma flicked off the gears with her hoof. Ayma slowly eased into the hot water, situating herself in one of the many inner curves, the scalding water coming up to her neck. She relaxed for a moment in quiet before exploring the floor cabinet next to her. She quickly went through the surprisingly excellent choices in shampoos, conditioners and soaps, her earlier frustrations with the inn’s pricing evaporated as she lathered herself up, absorbing the scented perfumes, she made sure to scrub her horns vigorously, and was pleasantly surprised they had a hardened shaping stone for her hooves.

Ayma flicked the switch for the bubbles. Nothing happened for a moment, then a rumbling, then sudden blasts of airs from many previously unseen tubes hit into her. Ayma yelped, thrashing in the tub and stood up. She took a moment to look at the churning water beneath her, water churning beneath her thighs. She noticed small ring surrounding each tube, she twisted one of the rings, the jet stream lowered. She lowered the output on most jets, especially the one that had blasted her sacred place and settled down. She had never experienced this kind of bathing before where pressurized air caressed and messaged her body, gnomish plumbing indeed! _The Draenei could learn a thing or two to augment their crystal tech_ she thought, as she slowly raised the pressure on most of the water jets again, leaving out the one slowly bubbling up on her thighs and tail.

Ayma looked over those small, intricately made containers that bathhouse had to offer. She could see no names or identifiers as she picked one up, closely examining the Night Elf handiwork of carved leaves and wolves. _Not for your prim lifestyle _she faintly recalled the innkeeper telling her. She popped the hinge; looking inside and seeing a purplish green liquid. “_Smell don’t spill”,_ the innkeeper had said. She sniffed; the scents felt unfamiliar yet inviting. Nothing changed. She tried another small flask with butterflies and flowers, the liquid more like a melted gold. Another sniff. She sighed, putting both flasks back into their original spots in the cupboard, not bothering with the rest.

Ayma felt finished and rolled over on to her knees to pull herself out of the tub. Taking a moment to engross herself in hot water, she dunked her head down and pressed herself into the tub side. Without warning each breast felt like they had been stabbed. Ayma gasped and brought her head up with a sharp flick. She found that her nipples were completely erect and hard! It felt like that time one of her lovers where he pressed her nipples into her chest as he explored her body for the first time, but here it was just her in the bath… alone…with those strange, scented containers. 

Suspicious, Ayma felt between her thighs and discovered it was also very sensitive, with an ache building up. She had a burning to get rid of that throbbing sensation.

Rolling over on to her back, Ayma used her thumb to anchor and then rubbed lightly on her sex, her other hand squeezing and twisting one of her nipples. She kept increasing the pressure and speed of her fingers, but that ache kept growing. 

She plunged her two of her fingers into the dark blue folds, pleasure racing up her spine. It was not enough, she needed outside help to get rid of that artificially enhanced desire.

Ayma felt a few wayward bubbles sliding up her extra sensitive buttocks and in between her thighs, tickling her. She desperately wanted more; she quickly twisted the jet stream to full power. Ayma yelled out in both surprise and ecstasy as the air blasted up between her thighs. Ayma positioned her body a little lower so her inner curve took the full brunt of the jet stream. Gasping, she plunged three of her fingers in, hammering herself into a crescendo. She felt it coming but the power of that orgasm racked her completely, her body twitched as she yelled out and thrashed as water splashed around in the bathhouse before receding back into the basin. Ayma was continually smacked with pulses, keeping her fingers and water jets. Ayma hadn’t felt an orgasm that intense since her very first night with her boy sweetheart…_Monad_, she let that memory fly away as she added a fourth finger to her pumping.

Ayma was continuously racked by pulses along her body, then suddenly a large jolt came and Ayma whipped her head back in bliss… right into the tile floor. 

Her horns glanced up and the base of her skull smacked on the tiles, her chin pushed into her throat. 

Ayma groggily sat up, her bliss drained as she checked the back of her head. Sore but no blood, her horns were thankfully not chipped. Ayma slowly crawled out and curled up on the hard, wet tile floor, slightly embarrassed for herself but relieved that it had not been worse. Ayma let the sound of the churning water and drone of the jet pumps wash over her pointed ears as she tried to calm down.

She laid there for a few minutes in a dripping, curled heap before a timer on the wall notified her that her hour in the bathhouse was nearly over. Ayma rose unsteadily to her hooves, the basin drained automatically as she quickly toweled off and wrapped herself in one of the white bathrobes, the sash was lower than her waist, probably meant for a night elf or human, no matter. She grabbed her discarded underwear and tucked them under her arm and headed back to the door marked 19 with many mixed emotions flowing through her bruised head.

\--

Unbeknownst to Ayma, behind the mirror held a secret room where two figures had observed the young Draenei. “Notify Markon, he has new prey”. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave what you liked and what you want to see more of in the comments below!


	3. [Chapter 2] Farstorm Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayma makes her way through Farstorm Forest on her mission but walks into a trap, gets knocked out and wakes up chained in a dark dungeon (F Draenei x M Human, Groping, Stripping, Non-Consensual, Bondage)

**Chapter 2**

Ayma woke up with a headache to the sound of the morning breakfast bells. Groaning, she got out of her bed, trying to ignore the sweaty smell of Night Elf and human from the night before, she really should have demanded a new room. The Draenei changed from the Inn’s bathrobes to her spare black garments inlaid with silver, her travelling robes had not dried. Clever folds hiding buttons, clasps and zippers held tightly from her neck, showing off her slim form while remaining comfortably loose at her wrists. Ayma strapped her long, golden staff with a jagged purple crystal at the top to her traveling pack and slung it over shoulder and looped a wand through a few folds in the robe around her waist. These garments were not made for travel however and fit tightly around her long legs, it would be difficult to run in.

As soon as Ayma entered the main floor she was greeted with a loud “Daa’ling! Come sit with us, let me buy you some breakfast!”. It was that woman Isabelle from the night before! She wore red and black clothes that matched strikingly with her dark red hair with chainmail underneath, her plate was bundled up in a pack underneath the table. _At least she is wearing something…_ Isabelle beckoned to an open chair, the rest were filled with laughing patrons, one was the Night Elf man from the night before, who immediately quieted when he noticed Ayma. She did not want to go to that table, but all the other tables were filling up rapidly with patrons flowing in. Isabelle was offering to buy breakfast, Ayma decided to take the seat, Isabelle squealed with delight, grabbed a dwarf waitress and ordered a serving for Ayma. Isabelle introduced the others at the table. Broxxim the Night Elf man from before who avoided eye contact with Ayma. Orik and Gezzle the male dwarf and Gnome who dug into their breakfast, and most surprisingly a brown Tauren female named Nala who teetered on her undersized chair, giving Ayma a warm smile. Nobody in the tavern seemed to mind that a member of the horde was there. Ayma had never seen a Tauren up close and had always wanted to meet one.

Ayma noticed the cloaked man in the corner had not moved from the night before, an uneasy feeling crept over her. Her curiosity was interrupted by Isabelle “So daa’ling, what brings you to Farstorm Inn?” Ayma looked back but couldn’t see the man anymore through the crowded inn. 

“Im on a quest that involves the Farstorm Forest” Ayma responded, gaining confidence.

“Oh?” Isabelle pressed for details. Ayma dodged specifics but gave away that the light council of the Exodar had assigned her to the task alone because they were stretched thin. “Da’ling!” Isabelle exclaimed “You really shouldn’t go in without a party, Farstorm Forest is far more dangerous than you think. Demons, elementals, black drakes, rabid wolves, specters, tempest scorpions, the list goes on.” The others at the table nodded their agreement as Isabelle rattled off other threats.

The dwarf waitress saved Ayma from more questions with fried raptor eggs, goretusk bacon and Westfall wheat bread. They went back to laughing and joking with each other, forgetting Ayma was there. Isabelle dominated the conversation. S_he really isn’t so bad. _Ayma decided to not judge Isabelle solely on her nightly adventures. 

Ayma complemented the Tauren Nala on the flowers intertwining her coarse brown hair, and quietly struck up a conversation while Isabelle was distracted, arm wrestling Orik. “Oh, that’s simple! I’m a druid and I tend to this forest; it has caused many problems for the wild” Nala responded in a high, cute voice. Interesting, the druids had a similar wariness of the forest as the Cathedral in Stormwind and the light council of the Exodar did. Ayma wanted to trust Nala, but she was still Horde, owing a blood oath to the Orcs. They were interrupted by Isabelle shouting victory, Orik’s hand was covered in bits of Raptor egg.

Ayma finished her breakfast, Isabelle noticed and asked her if she wanted more, but Ayma politely declined and hurriedly left before Isabelle could remember to probe further about the Etemol quest. “That goat sure is in a hurry” she heard Isabelle say to her friends.

\--

“Um you’re not going with a group?” Stowney questioned.

“It would be best if I went at it alone, I will be fine” Ayma responded, she did ask him if he knew about the Etemol ruins. The inkeeper said he was vaguely familiar with the name but couldn’t recall details, there were many dangers in the forest and there were more pressing concerns for adventurers. He did give Ayma some helpful tips on Farstorm Forest, giving her a map and marking where the dragon and ogre territories were, which paths adventurers frequented the most and gave her a tip to not to camp on open rock as that was where the tempest scorpions in Farstorm forest were very small and liked to hide in the warm crevasses at night. Ayma exited the inn, the ground still muddy from the day before. Ayma left the Farstorm Inn behind and entered Farstorm Forest.

\--

Two days later the well-travelled road had long since narrowed to a small, winding trail as Ayma trekked along the muddy path, the afternoon light finally making inroads through the gloom of Farstorm Forest. She wanted to reach the Etemol grove soon to begin the cleansing ritual quickly before nightfall.

The young Draenei heard a snap off to her left, alerted she whisked her staff from her back and whipped around trying to find the source. Ayma thought it was her nerves getting the best of her when she started hearing chanting behind her on the other side of the path. She pivoted to face the direction of the chanting and turned right into a dark bolt that hit her squarely in the chest.

The garments magical resistances took the brunt of the attack but Ayma still stumbled back. She saw the dark outline of a figure approaching her slowly. Ayma tried to cast a defensive spell, the figure snapped a human hand upwards. Silenced! She whipped her wand out and sent a holy bolt towards the assailant, it was absorbed by a black bubble. The dark human was shrouded in black and purple as he casted another spell that disorientated Ayma, her next bolt went wide. Another dark bolt spell hit her again, no resistances protected her this time, darkness overcame her as she collapsed into the mud.

\--

Ayma woke in darkness laying uncomfortably on a stone floor, she immediately reached for her divine power but felt nothing. She reflexively went for her wand but found her wrists chained uncomfortably to a metal collar on her neck. It didn’t matter anyway as her staff, wand and travel pack where nowhere to be seen, she was still in her priest robes and was surprised her face and garments were clean of mud. The metal collar was connected to two rings in the floor near the wall by two short chains. A pair of manacles where clasped above the ankles of her hooves, chains hung loosely but thankfully were not connected to anything. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, illuminated by a small porthole as she checked her surroundings. 

She could tell she was in a long stone room, but the other end was shrouded in darkness. The spotlight enduing on some metal rings bolted to the floor and chains hanging from the ceiling. Ayma tried to get up and get a better look out of the porthole but the collar around her neck prevented her from standing, forcing her back down into a sitting position. It was still daylight outside, but it was likely evening by now after her encounter with the warlock. 

Ayma steeled her nerves and reached again for her power but felt it completely unreachable, the metal around her neck, wrists and hooves seemed to have a dampening effect. _This is not steel._ Ayma thought to herself. She could feel Kolo’s strength scroll hidden in her sleeve but couldn’t reach for it.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness somewhat.

It wasn’t a welcoming sight. 

The only exit was a heavy wooden door at the end of the room, in between her and the door she saw chains, manacles, and hooks on the floors, walls and hanging from the ceiling. Strewn across the room were wooden stocks, ropes, and other more ominous instruments that sent the young Draenei into a panic,_ this is a dungeon! Where am I? I don’t remember there being any sort of human structure near the Etemol ruins!? _ Ayma was likely far away from any sort of help, and no way for anyone to track her.

Nearly an hour passed, and nighttime approached, her precious light dimming. Ayma’s fearful thoughts were renewed as the door at the far end creaked open slowly. Only darkness laid beyond as a massive figure entered the dungeon. Ayma’s heart pounded in her chest as the figure wordlessly clomped across the room. The spotlight revealed the muscly pale blue skin of a felguard, likely under the thrall of that warlock. She tried to kick the fellguard as it approached but her awkward sitting allowed the demon to easily sidestep the hoof. The fellguard towered over her and reached down to unhook her from the wall and yanked her collar cruelly. She stumbled over herself as it dragged her to a pair of hooks hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room. The felguard unhooked one of her hands and quickly chained it to a hook in the ceiling, easily overpowering her as she thrashed and cursed him. The felguard then did the same for her other hand, pulling the hooks taught, stretching her shoulders. The demon forced her legs apart, her garments strained against her long legs as the felguard chained each manacle connected to her hooves to rings in the stone ground. Ayma was restrained and unable to relax, her hooves barely touched the stone floor unless she stretched her heels uncomfortably. The beam of light from the porthole shone like a spotlight on Ayma, making her out as some sort of valued treasure. The felguard came up behind her, towering over her. She felt it hesitate a moment then grab her ass through her garments with its meaty hands, feeling out her athletic, modestly curved qualities. Ayma yelled all manner of curses and instinctively shouted the Priest incantation to bind the felguard. The words had no divine power thanks to the manacles, but it seemed to annoy the felguard as it recognized her intentions. She could see the demon go to a wall nearby that held many types of wicked looking metal gags, the felguard however chose a simple band of white mageweave cloth. It came over and wrapped it over her protesting lips and tied it off behind her head, muffling her curses, though Ayma could breathe through the cloth easily _why so little sound?_ The felguard seemed amused by the effectiveness of the gag.

She worried the felguard would start feeling her up again, but it simply left without trying anything else. She heard the heavy door slam behind her, leaving Ayma spread eagled, half standing, half hanging, terror racing through her veins.

\--

Markon was in his library studying a tome when his felguard walked in. Xart grunted “She is short”. Markon looked up in surprise, Xart wasn’t known for words. He dismissed the felguard to the nether. He took a few minutes to finish his page and leisurely got up.

\--

_Very short at least for a Draenei_ Markon thought to himself as he silently entered the dungeon, the Draenei unaware he had entered, hopelessly testing and straining against her tight bindings. The light from the porthole shown down on her, showing her exquisite, bound form. He could never get enough of that feeling seeing a woman whether it be Human, Night Elf, Troll, Orc, or his favorite the Blood Elves being chained up in his dungeon and at his mercy, and now he had a Draenei. Her black and silver dress complimented her well, matching her snow-colored form, her white tail swayed gently, counterbalancing as Markon drank her in. The informant had delivered, the reputation of the Draenei was earned, she was extraordinarily beautiful. 

And she was at his mercy. He needed that feeling of control.

He had always wanted a Draenei but those rare creatures seldom left the Exodar, and they never travelled alone. When he had learned about Ayma, he set his sights on her immediately. _She must be young_. Markon could not sense that aura of Immortality that had followed the Blood and Night elves.

Markon silently casted a spell which lit several dozen purple witch-light orbs in the dungeon, it did not make much of a difference but Markon reveled at seeing her recoil and yell. “MMmmm!!” _I don’t recall telling Xart to gag her. _ No matter. 

\--

Ayma tried to calm herself down but then she heard a smooth, terrible voice behind her. “Now, shall we begin?”

\--

The chains rang like bells to Markon as the Draenei thrashed uselessly. The girl stiffened when Markon started caressing her back, savoring her restrained form. He explored her alien features, curious. She fidgeted when Markon explored her long, outlandish tail then worked his fingers slowly down her legs. The Draenei kept trying to turn around but her hands were bound up tightly, unable to see over her shoulders. His hands travelled up to her interesting, curved horns which felt a little more flexible then a tauren’s. Markon then stroked those outlandish tendrils behind her leaf shaped ears. He had her under his power, he needed that domination.

Markon wanted her more than ever. _How do I get her out of that dress? _Markon thought, confused. He felt around for any sign of a fastener or button, he circled around to her front, nothing. The Draenei tried to look at him directly under his hood but Markon was too busy to return the favor. He disregarded her protests and kept searching with his fingers. He could not see or feel anything. Markon was about to grab for a knife when his hand suddenly slipped in between the embroidery near her collarbone, a hidden pocket? He felt around and found a clasp. Undoing it, the robe split from her collarbone and over her shoulder, revealing a white undershirt beneath.

“MMMmmmMM!” her protests went ignored. 

Markon marveled at the robes design, he had worried that he would need to cut the cloth, ruining its magical properties. He found more and more hidden clasps and buttons as he worked his way through the robes, enjoying the succulent puzzle until the robe came tumbling to the ground in a heap around the girl’s hooves. Markon impatiently summoned a knife from the void and cut off the Undershirt, revealing dark blue underwear. _Layers within layers, how modest_ Markon thought, amused. A tear rolled down her face as he removed the gold ring at the base of her tail and removed her hairpin, letting her straight, blue hair flow down her shoulders. He wanted the girl only in her natural state. 

\--

Ayma was in hell, she could do nothing to fight back and her body started disobeying her, becoming aroused the moment the warlock started stripping away the garments. Ayma shivered in the cold dungeon as she kept trying to reach for her power, but it was simply gone, blocked by whatever metal was in the manacles. The warlock’s hood covered his face, but she could see he had a strong build, and the confidence to match. _He has done this before, _Ayma realized, _When I get out of this,_ _I will kill him…painfully. _The black and purple shroud was different from the cloak in the forest, but it seemed more familiar somehow, the designs of the embroidery seemed to flow in a pattern she had seen before but couldn’t quite place as he moved behind her again before she could inspect more closely.

The inevitable came. She felt her bra tugging on her chest, then a snap as the knife cut away exposing her delicate curves to the cold air. Ayma had expected her panties to go next, but the rapist moved to her front and studied her perfect round boobs. the tips of his fingers dancing across her skin, caressing and twirling her nipples, the hood shrouded his face in shadow but she could see an outline of a grin. He seemed impressed there was no sag. _Not hard if they aren’t the size of a snapvine watermelon like Isabelle’s_ the random thought flew through Ayma’s head. _Maybe a little larger than an Elwynn apple…_She snapped back to reality when he cupped his hands on her apples and twisted her nipples painfully. 

“MMnnghhMM!” Ayma squealed, stifled by the infuriating mageweave gag. She was surprised that her mind had wandered despite the crises at hand.

The warlock smirked, his fingers glided down, tips tickling her as he moved to the last of her protection and started peeling it down. She started becoming moist between her legs in traitorous anticipation. _This is it.._. she whimpered, closing her eyes. But he stopped, taking his hands off. She hesitantly opened her eyes. It seemed the warlock decided he wanted to take his time.

He took a few steps back and uncovered his hood, revealing short, well-groomed jet-black hair as he inspected her closely like an object. The man did not seem much older than Ayma’s 20 years. He had a clean-shaven face marred by a thin-white scar down his cheek. He took off his flowing cloak, leaving only a flowing purple hakama around his waist. Ayma suppressed a gasp. _How? _ Mages and priests couldn’t spend that kind time for physical training, warlocks were notoriously worse, sickly even! But she couldn’t stop staring his chiseled chest, his perfect 8-pack. One of her Draenei lovers had been overbuilt and wrapped in veins, the warlock was perfectly smooth and toned. 

He stepped closer, confident. Ayma tried to headbutt him.

He didn’t flinch as her forehead came mere inches from his nose. He stood still for a moment, then suddenly, he grabbed her by the chin, forcing her head to the side and held her in a powerful grip. He leaned in and nibbled on her leaf-shaped ear, sending dreadful chills all along her back and down her tail. Ayma’s angry protests turned into a quiet whimper as he moved his hands up and down her form, grabbing fistfuls of her ass and playing with her apples. He pressed his body on hers, his hot skin blazed on her cold body. She felt his stiff rod through his hakama press against her. Ayma gasped as the warlock licked and kissed her on the side of her forehead where her skull connected to one of her horns and felt a bead of her wetness slide down her thigh.

Then his mood changed. It seemed that the warlock had enough of his teasing. He circled out of her site behind her, hot body still pressed against her skin as he wrapped his hands around waist. His hands moved down, navigating the last of her protection. She shook in her chains. _No_! Ayma yelled, but all that came out was a desperate “nnN!” as he started peeling it down her smooth, ivory mound.

The warlock whispered into her ear, “You are mine!”


	4. [Chapter 3] Farstorm Dungeon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Chapter 3 - Farstorm Dungeon] Markon has his way with Ayma (F Draenei x M Human, Non-Consensual, Bondage)

**Chapter 3**

This was not fair.

Ayma could not fight back.

She struggled uselessly against her chains as the warlock toyed with her snow-white tail behind her, rubbing it against her dripping mound. The human pushed a finger into her sex, working his way through her folds. Ayma tried to lock her knees together but couldn’t quite manage it as the manacles kept her hooves locked to far apart and she couldn’t turn to face him as she was held up by her manacled hands spread-eagled. The warlock removed his hakama with one hand while showing his appreciation of her curvy butt with his other hand. Ayma knew it was coming but she still couldn’t believe it as she felt his hard shaft rub against her. Ayma again reached uselessly for her priestly powers, but it was still blocked by the strange, metallic manacles that bound her. 

Then she felt the tip of his rod graze her sex, electricity arced up her spine as he slowly pushed past her wet, prepared entrance. She cried into her mageweave gag, Ayma was a proud Draenei, bringing her down to this stage was unbearable as he slowly made his way through her, his member spreading her wide and deeply as his strong hands gripped her waist as an anchor. Her head snapped up, unable to control her body as it tremored in reaction to the shocking delicacy of his probe. In that moment his silky voice slimed over her as he slowly penetrated her a few more times. “Hum…you’re no virgin, but I heard the Draenei are a sensible race, are you married?” almost as if he was having a casual conversation.

At the very least, she forgot what the man was doing to her in that moment as Ayma went ballistic and shook violently, her chains screeched as her forced pleasure turned into a fit of rage. She pushed forward and he was suddenly out of her before slamming backwards into him with what little room she had to maneuver in the confines. The move was so sudden and over the top that he actually lost his grip as s and stumbled backwards, cursing. Ayma celebrated at that moment for any small victory she could get. 

Then suddenly the wind got knocked out her as she found a fist buried into her gut. Her shoulders strained as she tried to double down against the pain, but the chains held her hands up tightly. 

“Heh, you almost made me lose control, that would have been unfortunate for the both of us.” Ayma couldn’t respond, still gasping for air as he quickly and fluidly unchained her hands. Suddenly the support from her strained shoulders gave out and she fell forward towards the ground, barely getting her hands out to break her fall. Ayma unsteadily pushed up on her hands, legs still awkwardly chained and spread out behind her but cushioned by her nearly forgotten discarded robes. That damnable warlock then threw a foot into her back before she could fully recover, causing her to collapse painfully into the cold, stone floor. He grabbed her arms and crossed them behind her, pinning them under his knee. He then ripped her gag off and used it to tie her arms before she could think to resist. Her two pillows pushed into her chest, making it difficult to breath as the warlock got up and pressed his foot into her back between her shoulder-blades. Ayma’s horn clacked on the stone as she turned her head to the side and tried to gulp down more air, still winded from the punch, feeling impossibly more vulnerable. She barely got the words out “Who…are….you?”

He casually said, “Oh where are my manners? I am known to a few as Markon.” Markon knelt down and pressed his thick member at the base of her neck, his hot sack dragged as he traced his member backwards down along her spine before resting himself between her white cheeks.

“I…. will…. kill you…painfully Markon! When…. I get out of…here!” Ayma choked out. Feeling her anger resurface, at least she could finally speak! She was still in an appalling position lying flat on her stomach. She tried to lock her knees together, but he was already blocking her, keeping her spread. 

He continued on casually, as if this was a normal conversation “I do wonder how old you are. I don’t sense that you have that aura of immortality yet”. He dragged her backwards and raised her ass up into a better position for himself. With one hand he used her thigh for support and used his other hand for the base of her tail like a handle, letting her tail lay across the back with the tip drooping just over her shoulder. Pain and pleasure lanced up between her thighs as he entered her once again, much more forcefully this time. “Aagh!” Ayma yelled out, violated as he quickly ripped through her. Markon fell into a steady, hard rhythm as he pounded her, his torso smacking loudly against her with every thrust. It felt so horribly wrong yet pleasured moans escaped her. Each time his legs smacked into her bottom it was met with an “Umph, mph, ungh, unph” as he pierced her. None of her previous lovers had ever attempted such a vicious fucking. She felt more and more traitorous pleasure from her body as the human expertly threw himself into her. She couldn’t betray herself this quickly? But the man felt so unbearably good as he pumped her, he clearly had an insane amount of experience, far more than any young Draenei she had experimented with. If any of them tried what the human was doing, she would have been severely battered from the pain and soreness.

He pounded away for what felt like an eternity, her body bounced and reacted to the Warlock’s expert thrusts, she tried hurling insults but all that came out were pleasured gasps as he overwhelmed her. The warlock’s breathing grew coarse for his own need to satiate his craving, her own traitorous pleasure grew as her body reacted… willing. She worked with what little effort she had left to keep her gasps from turning to downright moaning. 

He slowed down, lapsing into a few final, powerful thrusts. His last plunging himself deeply as far as his substantial human length would allow inside her before dropping his hot seed. Ayma’s breathing became ragged as he gave her a few more thrusts, letting himself fully drain into her womb while she tried to fight down her own crescendo. 

~~ ~~

Markon was both a master of the demonic arts and women. He easily noticed the girl’s body trembling, trying to resist her own inner urges.

Markon didn’t like resistance, he instantly brought a hand down and started stroking her wet, angelic curve. The girl realized what he was doing and coughed out a ragged “No!” His fingers danced between her thighs, not bothering to plunge his fingers in or use his tongue. Her chains rattled as she collapsed into her own orgasm. Her eyes went wide, unable to focus, their inner glow making her blue eyes look even larger. She seemed shocked he didn’t need to enter her again with himself or his fingers. Pleased with that involuntary compliment, Markon stood up and walked over to the back of the chamber as the draenei girl’s orgasm took full hold of her sprawled body. He looked back and the site pleased him, but he wanted more, far more out of her.

He selected a vial from one of the stone shelves, inspecting it. He felt himself harden at the thought of what the contents in the vial could do. “Something the Royal Apothecarian would love to get their hands on ...” Warlocks could never spend much time for more leisurely activities. Most took up collecting luxuries such as wine or exotic plants. Markon took up collecting equipment for his primal desire. His master had always noted how unusually sharp Markon was even to his shadowy peers’ standards, his remarkable talent and the craving for the women around him concerned the council and his master when they started finding out he was chaining other female acolytes naked and taking advantage of them against their will. 

He looked back, appreciating the slim physique of the Draenei who was already trying to sit up, her tail swaying as a counterbalance, teasing her assets. The girl must have had a lot of experience for her age to recover so quickly, Markon grinned as he felt his body turn on in anticipation for another round. He was in his prime, and he had to admit that his ailment had stretched his body in useful ways, giving him raw strength and endurance. Most young warlocks craved that perfect world where they could match their magical strength with their physical one but had to sacrifice their well-being for the pursuit of knowledge and magical power.

He mused over an old leather gag. Zalana was the first he remembered. Warlocks were daring. The two human teenagers had shared their curiosity to experiment with the dungeon experience. He used ropes and leather back then when she taught him those useful lesson how to tie women up in a way that wouldn’t injure them. He had ignored another of her lessons when she tried to give him the safety sign during their first real session. Zalana almost killed them both in a magical outburst when she panicked. They tried a few more attempts that day which awakened Markon to a new world of pleasure, but she left him soon after as he did not care to reciprocate and let himself be tied up. Zalana had tried one last time to get him to understand consent and there could be more unexpected outbursts in the futre. All it had really taught Markon was to use magical rope the second time around on another unwitting acolyte. 

The council and his master found that his thirst for knowledge and his need to dominate those around him would combine dangerously into a lust for power, it took them some convincing and some promises to be solely devoted to his studies and that he was faithful to the Alliance. Years had passed with only a minor incident or two until the affliction came. He had to leave before anyone found out, no one would understand or support him now. Warlocks were used to being on their own anyway, outcasts of society and even their own societies. 

He was thrown back to the present when the Draenei built up the nerve to start shouting curses at him again. Another thing he didn’t like was the shouting, he had to give her credit though, only orcs and humans could be this consistently tenacious. He decided against a gag for the moment and grabbed a large jar and sauntered back to the woman who was comparing him to a pile of hellfire-boar dung.

~~ ~~

“So inexperienced, the Alliance must be getting desperate for agents, that’s worrying.” She could hear him say to himself from across the cold chamber. To Ayma’s suprise, the warlock sounded genuinely concerned unlike his earlier musings. Not that it really mattered to her. She tried to sit up but found it extremely difficult to move and reposition on her stomach with her arms locked behind her back and her ankles still chained tightly into the ground, hooves unable to find purchase. Her discarded priest robes cushioned her legs, she could feel with her left knee the inscription of strength scroll Kolo had given her tucked away in a hidden pocket in the garment’s sleeve. She had to figure out a way to get to that scroll without that human devil noticing, which felt impossible. 

“What do you care about the Alliance?” Ayma shouted. _What was he doing?_ She couldn’t see him as her cheek pressed into the cold floor, only able to see sideways. She was lucky her horns weren’t very intrusive and flowed down and up her head, some Draenei women could never get that comfort when lying down. She heard him walk back to her, again out of site frustrating her. “Others will come for me; they know where I am.” The snicker in response did not help her optimism, she would need to get out of this on her own. It seemed hopeless, Markon left little room for error but Ayma couldn’t give in now.

The warlock set down a black jar next to her and unscrewed it, he then unchained her right ankle and flipped her over on to her back, she got her leg free before he could grab her and she tried for a kick. It was awkward with no strength and it barely phased him as he got a hold of her ankle and locked it down in the floor and got on top of her chest letting his warm meat droop between her apples. He grabbed her by the neck firmly but not roughly and pushed her head back until her horns touched the stone floor exposing her neck petrifying Ayma. He kept one hand on her and dipped his free hand in the jar and applied a soft, cold gel just above her metal collar. He got up and picked up the jar. Ayma loosened and started and tried to shout “hey!” but the word came out quietly. She caught herself, suddenly was unable to yell, as if all the volume was leeched from her voice. “What…?” barely louder than a whisper. He just snorted at her newfound panic and walked away.

He went over to one of the tables and started adjusting something, she heard gears turning. Ayma cursed him again but there was no power behind her words. At least she was on her back, with some effort she got herself up to a sitting position despite her hands still being tied, it was a relief to have her hooves lay flat on the stone floor. Markon’s glistening back was turned to her as he busied himself pulling out chains and fixing them to the table from a box underneath. She made a closer inspection of the large rectangular stone room that was lit by the purple witch-lights, while still gloomy, it was much easier then when she first woke. There were other tables, chairs, and posts of different sizes made of steel, wood and stone around the room and manacles and hooks hanging from the ceiling. Along the walls hung nefarious equipment ranging from gags, ropes, straps, plugs, and shelves displaying orderly sets of vials, jars, plant containers, and mixing equipment. 

She was still dripping from his last pass at her, looking at this…dungeon, Ayma realized this was just the start. The warlock had obviously done this before and had built up quite the collection of infernal instruments. He had full control over her, she could not see any opportunities to get herself out. She still had that strength scroll that Kolo had given her hidden in her dress, but how to get to it? She couldn’t give up now. There was one thing he wasn’t aware of inside his dungeon. She noticed the discarded cloak and hakama on the floor. She inspected the cloak’s design more closely, its patterns familiar…. “You were that cloaked man at the Inn!” Ayma realized, it wasn’t loud but Markon clearly heard.

He turned around. “What?” he sounded genuinely confused for the first time. 

“Farstorm Inn…” she mumbled, it was her turn to be confused, his reaction couldn’t hide a lie.

He stated “What do I care about that cesspool of an Inn? Stupid Draenei, warlocks aren’t welcome in even the most unsavory places and those at Farstorm Inn certainly know me, not sure why you would spend the night there” there was no hurt in his voice, just fact. 

Ayma tried to process what he had said, _He was never at Farstorm Inn, how did he know I was there though? _There were other threads about Markon that tapped at the edge of her mind. Markon seemed finished with his preparations when the table lurched down, its edge hitting the floor. He went over and dragged her by the chain connecting her hooves to the downturned table, Ayma barely kept her head and horns above the ground as her back was dragged along the mercifully smooth stone.

It would be the last time she would try to answer those questions that night, the true horror of Markon’s dungeon began.

\--

Markon loved it when a woman’s eyebrows curved up in fright. He didn’t mind if those eyebrows scrunched in anger from earlier but seeing that Draenei girl look up at him with those large, scared eyes that glowed a subtle blue made him hard as he dragged her to the downturned table. 

He locked the chain to a peg at the edge of the table. She didn’t protest and curse Markon as much, focused more on herself, which was fine by him. The dampening gel was his way of telling her he didn’t like the screaming and yelling. 

He started cranking a lever and the peg moved, pulling her on to the sloping table. _Clackinga clackinga clackinga…._ He kept cranking, she let out a magically weakened cry when her arms bumped and scraped on the edge of the table as she was being pulled up. Markon mentally slapped himself at his callous mistake, he demanded perfection in all things. _Clackinga clackinga clackinga…._ He kept cranking until she was on the table completely, her blue hair and white tendrils pooled out behind her off the edge. She wriggled on the table, trying to get herself into a better position, however the table was slanted so steeply she kept getting pulled back down. He didn’t show it, but he was impressed that her chest didn’t sag backwards, he could see the advantages in a smaller bust and appreciated how her small blue nipples and areola complimented very nicely. 

Markov rolled the snow colored Draenei on to her side. He took two thin chains that threaded through holes by her head in the table and hooked them to the manacle rings on her delicate hands before untying the mageweave band. He reached under the table and pulled the chains until her hands locked by her head, elbows pointing to her waist. He adjusted the table slightly, tilting it up so he could get to the chains underneath the table and bring them over the edge by the girl’s head and bring them to her hooves over her body. The two chains ended in a thin, flat sheet of metal, he took a manacle on one of her ankles and clicked a hidden mechanism within the bond and slid it open like one of those sliding doors of a Pandaren hut. It was a clever bit of engineering that he was lucky to get his hands on. He slid the metal sheet in from the chain and clasped the manacle closed and quickly did the same for the other. While leather and ropes were no longer Markon’s favorite, he used a leather band and wrapped it over the Draenei’s waist and down the sides of the table, he didn’t want her wriggling too much, and it let him make his next move. “W-what are you doing”? she said softly, almost overwhelmed.

“The best I can”

\--

Ayma felt lightheaded from all the blood rushing up to her skull, making it difficult to object and fight with him, she never wanted it to make it easy for the warlock, but it felt no matter what she tried to do, it did little to faze him. He adjusted the table a little more and then detached the rings holding her to the peg, allowing her legs freer movement and giving Ayma some relief from the vertigo, still held from slipping by her hands and the leather strap on her waist. The long, thin link chains that were _clipped_ in still rubbed along her body every time she moved her hooves. She hadn’t realized the rings on the manacles were detachable and wondered if it was the same for the rings on her hands and neck.

Markon started cranking her leg chains back. _Clinkity Clinkity Clinkity_ it kept going, folding her legs back towards herself until she was folded completely in half painfully with her legs nearly touching her hands and face. She heard a click underneath the table and with her naked body folded in over itself on one half, he pushed half the table away, letting her rear almost hang over the edge and her tail droop over the edge. It gave him perfect access to her. 

The warlock rubbed his hands across her firm, round butt. He was already hard by the time he decided to make a move on her. Ayma was nearly dizzy from being in this upturned position, she was ready for him to crank the table upwards to give himself easier access and at least give her some relief from the vertigo. 

He did not level out the table. _What is he up to now…wait…_She felt his tip on her puckered backdoor. 

“Wait, p-please no…ack!” He entered her.

Her internal organs were lit on fire as he entered her tight space. Ayma had tried anal once with one of her Draenei men, it had been a very painful experience. Ayma had since then shooed her other lovers from trying that type of exploration. Ayma quickly started breathing heavily, burning up every time he plunged into her tight cave. However, it wasn’t as painful as she had remembered. That burning sensation started felt intoxicating as it burned away her nausea. 

“Even…tighter…then before!” Markon said, all she could really see was a clenched smile as he pumped her even faster, clearly enjoying himself. She worked to fight down her own, strange gratification. He then hooked two thumbs into her pussy and rubbed himself through that tender layer of flesh between her two canals. Ayma’s mind was obliterated as the pleasure started mixing with the burning sensations that racked her body. The warlock just kept on steadily with his own powerful, expert strokes, uncaring for her state as he soon found his own release and started layering her insides. He dug in deeply with his thumbs and rubbed his last few spurts out through her sensitive folds, inadvertently punching pleasure into her while helping his own release. A fiery orgasm ripped through her body, far hotter than anything she had ever felt before. She wanted to yell, to scream, but all that game out were quiet hisses as that magic-gel took all the force out of her throat. The coldness of the room seemed to dissipate as she shuddered through her second forced orgasm of the night.

Markon was just getting started.

\--

She was perfect.

The Draenei girl matched his confidence, authority, and amusement with fear, anger and indignity. She shot him furious stares as Markon slid his fingers along her toned, white legs that ran parallel to her elegant, slim body with the help of the chains. He slid the manacles and the clips came out and her legs tumbled over the side of the table in exhaustion. Now she seemed to fear what he would do next as he bound her hands tightly together and shoved her off the table. She fell painfully and cried out, Markon kept his face impassive but at the back of his mind something pushed. He fought it down, he would remain in control, she was already serving his plans extremely well. 

He dragged her to a solid wood post. He quickly unbound and rebound her hands and legs in a kneeling position, hands and hooves crossed tightly behind the post. “Stop, please! You don’t have to keep going through with this.” He ignored her and went to his collection of gags and selected one of his favorites, as it served a very different purpose from the usual assortment.

He walked back, twirling a spider ring-gag with black leather straps. She closed her mouth and turned her head away, refusing to let him gag her. Markon responded by pinching her nose until she gave in and gulped air down, unable to hold her breath. He shoved the large metal ring into her mouth, stretching it open as he fit the ring between her pearly white teeth and locking her jaw. Four extra wires protruded from the ring, and curved over and under her cheeks, prevented her from turning the ring inside her mouth.

“aghaahagh” she protested. She couldn’t keep the spittle from running down her chin and dripping on to her petite shelf which just aroused him further as he dangled his stiff manhood in front of her face. He traced a finger along her delicate, blue lips, teasing her. He knew she desperately wanted to attack him, to bite him, which was why he used the Spider-gag in the first place. She was just too aggressive. 

Markon then let his stiff rod lie across her face for a moment, she jerked in her chains in disgust but could do little. He then slipped himself into her mouth, his girth slightly smaller than the ring. Her breathing quickened and hot breath raced over his rod as he rested himself on her wet, juicy tongue. Markon grabbed her by her four alien tendrils and slowly pulled her head closer. She tried to shy away as he slipped further and further into her mouth but could do little straine against her own tentacles as it seemed to hurt her a lot unexpectedly. Markon did the tried and true method and eagerly grabbed her by the horns and pulled her in quickly until he was all the way down the chocking Draenei’s throat. She gagged, but the gel he used earlier had other useful properties and preventing her gagging from overwhelming her as he cut off her air with his thick member. Her horns truly made for excellent handles and he used them to push her head back, bringing his length out of her without needing to move his waist as she gasped for air. He brought her forward and down again, again she gagged and spluttered as her jaw clamped reflexively but was blocked by the ring. “Glughuaggaghck” His fluids and her drool mixed and poured over her lips and on to her chin and chest as he brought her up and down repeatedly, her wrath turned to shame as she could do nothing to stop him from dominating her completely, she no longer tried to pull away from Markov and just focused on her breathing, closing her large, glowing eyes. _She’s deep-throated before_ Markon realized, amused. _ Maybe not with the assistance of a ring, nor had she clearly done anal, but it is certainly more audacious than what those prim Draenei espouse._

Markon kept bringing her in and out until he felt himself starting to release. In anticipation he pulled her down all the way until his sack rested against her dripping wet chin. He held her down as she tried to back out, unable to breath as his thick meat blocked her wind-tunnel. His peak hit and he shot wads deep down her throat, forcing her to swallow. He held steady for a moment as her spluttering cries layered with his own groaning. She kept jerking back in fits of desperation, he decided to release his grip on her horns and with the hold suddenly gone, she slammed her head backwards right into the wooden post in surprise, her horns gouging into the wood which momentarily stunned her. She quickly recovered and gulped in air, he used that time to finish himself on her face. Her arms strained against her chains, instinctively trying to wipe off her face but he denied her that luxury. Markon however decided to take pity and took her spider-ring gag to give her mouth some relief. 

She took a moment to recover herself from the hot mess, then spat a glob that landed on his knee “I will kill you…painfully” He was unsurprised that she still had spirit, many of them did early on, he wondered how long the Draenei would last. Orcs tended to stay enraged and were the most aggressive. Trolls would try to outlast him, often pretending to like it and play mind games which never worked on him and would fall to desperation, Blood and Night elves became depressed quickly, with Blood Elves often turning submissive and trying to please him for favorability as Night Elves would silently bear it for as long as possible before being reduced to despair. Humans had always remained the most unpredictable and varied. Now he had a Draenei who acted very much like the orc race they hated so much, albeit with a wider range of sentiments.

He went over to a different table, grabbed a towel from underneath and wiped off the spit. He began prepping his next foray letting his mind relax. The risk he took was considerable going after a member of the Draenei, but he had his reward. Markon could worry about other concerns later. He was fixing the affliction inside himself, letting his passions work for him rather than take control. 

\--

Markon went into her again, and again, and again, unrelenting. Ayma barely kept up with what was happening to her. He kept binding her into different positions and using her in different ways for whatever pleased him. It just kept going on and on through the night. Though exhausted, she struggled on, resisting, straining against her bonds as she took every opportunity to deride Markon. She would not let him break her no matter how dire, she was Velen’s chosen, a stalwart priest of the Draenei, she could not let herself down.


	5. [Chapter 4] Farstorm Cell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markon allows his pet succubus to clean Ayma up...in her own way. (FxF, Groping, Fondling, Bondage, Non-Consent)

**Chapter 4******

The light from the one small hole with iron bars had long since dimmed to stars. Ayma laid there chained on one of the tables, she had never been used so many times in one session before. Her body ached, not as much as she should have felt by the amount of times Markon had ravaged her. His last effort had left her quietly whimpering before he seemed satisfied and finally left.

She felt destroyed, feeling drowned in his power, her body covered in ropes of his white seed, which strangely still felt runny and fresh, she chalked it up as some sort of demonic enhancement.

Ayma heard a familiar sound of cloven hooves clopping, she almost hoped against hope that another Draenei had come to save her. “My, my, my, what a beautiful sight” a feminine voice said. Ayma looked up drearily, her mind was so scrambled from earlier that she felt nothing of the succubus looking down at her with a playful grin.

The succubus was much shorter than Ayma if she stood at full height, maybe slightly taller than a human female. She had a red, slim hourglass figure with horns spiraled upwards from her forehead. Red and black leather wings were tucked against her back. “My master requires me to clean you up and bring you to your most wonderful sleeping chambers!” the demon said in a singsong voice. Markon had left Ayma with her hands clipped into her collar. She didn’t resist as the succubus unchained her legs and got her shakily onto her hooves, prodding with long fingernails.

As was the standard practice, the succubus wore as little as possible. A thick armored bra held at bay her substantial bust. Isabelle’s voice chimed Ayma’s head, ‘Not as substantial as these ladies!”’ her heart warmed a little in that moment, she would have given anything to see any friendly face, she wasn’t sure why that friendly stranger at Farstorm Inn of all people kept coming up in Ayma’s mind but she needed it. The succubus had a thick leather belt with a whip and keyring attached and a thin piece of fabric threaded between her legs.

“It is too bad that my master won’t let me have my way with you now, no matter my darling, I’m a patient one” The succubus half led, half dragged Ayma by her chain to the heavy door, the succubus opened it to a stone hallway lit by more purple witch-lights. There were several more heavy doors that lined the hallway with small square holes lined with iron bars for viewing. Ayma was so slow and tender between the legs that the succubus impatiently yanked her to one of the doors. She took out her keyring and fiddled with it until she got the right one and opened the door to a dark cell, “Get in my sweet”. Ayma stood her ground. The succubus snarled and yanked her hard, Ayma stumbled forward and the succubus pushed her in into the square cell. The cell was a small, what was to be her bed was a thick wood slab along the back wall held up by two chains with a thin thatch blanket and a dirty straw pillow on it. There was a closed wooden toilet seat and stone wash basin tucked into the corner by the door likely for her personal use, Ayma was lucky it was better than a bucket or hole in the ground and the cell didn’t smell. The prison was faintly illuminated by a grate above the bed showing a starry night, and from the hallway. Many more chains hung in the cell, one laid coiled in the middle of the floor. The change in scenery at least gave Ayma a bit more liveliness.

The succubus hummed as she went to work taking a long chain that hung from the wall by the toilet and clipped it to Ayma’s neck, she attached the one on the floor to the chain hanging from her hooves. She then took a long chain by the door; it was different in that it was threaded through a ring and stopped by an X shape at one of its end points, keeping it from filing through. The succubus threaded the other part chain through the ring on Ayma’s left manacle and hooked it to her left before unclipping the manacles from her neck. Ayma found herself locked to three different points in the cell. Finding an escape from the cell seemed fruitless, there were just so many precautions. However, the chain threading through one of the rings allowed Ayma relatively unrestricted movement with her hands, allowing her to finally stretch her arms out, the chain clinked noisily against the ring as she pulled her hands apart.

She went immediately for the succubus’s throat. The demon was warned by the rattling of chains easily danced away, Ayma stumbled, her legs tangled, she was still too tired from Markon’s administrations from earlier. The succubus yanked on the chain by the door and Ayma was thrown forward off-balanced by her hands down to her knees. The succubus walked out of the cell and pulled the chain somewhere outside and wound it all the way through until Ayma’s left hand locked tightly against the ring on the wall, the succubus kept pulling until her right metal cuff clinked with her left. “My, aren’t you a feisty one!” the succubus giggled outside, taking the chain and locking it somewhere, Ayma was unable to pull back on her hands.

  
The succubus walked back into the cell and stamped down on the chain that connected from the middle of the floor to Ayma’s ankle cuffs with her cloven hoof before Ayma could pull herself into a better kneeling position and locked the chain. She uncoiled her whip. “My master wanted you unspoiled but I he doesn’t have THAT much control over me anymore…” Ayma looked up over her outstretched arms, her naked back was parallel to the ground, completely exposed. ‘Never give in’ Isabelle warned in Ayma’s mind giving her strength as she steeled herself for the blow. She held her breath as the succubus flicked the whip back, Ayma could do this, she could take the pain.

Then suddenly the succubus stopped, shaking, struggling to bring the whip down. A shimmering energy surrounded her.

Ayma saw in the corner of her eye a small dark portal opened in mid-air in the middle of the cell, Markon’s magically enhanced voice filled the room. “Thassta, your orders were clear.” He sounded firm, with a tinge of anger but mostly uninterested. The succubus yelped as purple electricity shot from the portal and electrocuted her. Thassta whimpered, Ayma could hear a sigh emanate from the portal “I suppose you may have a little fun now, clean her up the way you like and that is all. Disobey me again and you will face my wrath” The succubus recovered, a wicked grin split her face as the portal closed. She almost seemed to enjoy the pain that was inflicted on her. Succubae were demented.

“Oh my, he is a fun master, why do I doubt him? Now let us get you cleaned up!” Her long, forked tongue flicked out, licking her scarlet lips, her way… Markon had said. Thassta knelt behind Ayma, their legs tangling. She felt her tail get moved out of the way, giving the succubus…access? Then she felt the succubus’s hot forked tongue graze her lower thigh lightly, teasing. Ayma shook her chains in protest but couldn’t do much with her body restrained.

The succubus locked her arms around Ayma’s legs in a hug, preventing further movement. “Come dear, I’ll be nice, I had to promise Markon not to hurt you” She went in for another hot lick, going up her leg toward her inner thigh.  
Ayma yelped “Ack! Stop!”. Some power started coming back into her voice, the magical gel must have started wearing off. Thassta ignored her and caught any trails that had trickled down her legs started lapping up where Markon left himself on her ass and, working efficiently.

She lapped up the rest on Ayma’s round cheeks, “so delectable I can see why Markon made so much love to you” she complemented, then she made her way between Ayma’s thighs. Ayma gasped as Thassta’s forked tongue darted up and down her mound. Ayma could feel her body react with new vigor and she felt herself get moist, but why? Hadn’t she had enough from earlier? Thassta brought a hand up, keeping the other arm tightly wrapped and took two fingers and split Ayma’s tender folds open. The succubus started digging her way in with her tongue. Markon and other Draenei men had done this before, but why did this just feel so fundamentally different? The demon’s tongue buried itself into her inner folds, licking and consuming expertly, though far less roughly then what Ayma was used to from men.

And it felt good, Ayma reacted with newfound traitorous ecstasy, her body tingling. Ayma sucked in deeply, trying not to give away how she felt. “nnngh…how…?” she breathed out.  
Thassta stopped and looked up for a moment, “What, never felt the touch of a woman before?” and went back down, her unnaturally long demon tongue made quick work cleaning Ayma out. Ayma realized what she was feeling, the touch of a woman, it felt…different. The idea had seemed so outlandish and at the Exodar and she was already exploring other opportunities, but the possibilities…

Thassta moved on with her tongue, satisfied with her cleaning. The succubus started working her way up the tant and to her other hole. Taking her fingers, she opened up Ayma’s puckered pit “No please! Don’t…not…not there…ack!” the demon simply giggled at Ayma’s protests. Her hot tongue plunged in, delving deeply. Ayma’s head snapped up. Her body tingled with that strange sensation of the feminine touch.

“Sorry lovely, orders are orders” the succubus finished, satisfied, she then dug her head in, rubbing different types of cheeks together “oh my! So large and round, yet so firm.” Thassta fiddled with something and Ayma heard metal clanging on the stone floor behind her. She then made use of her whip and wrapped it like a leather biding around her legs, keeping her butt raised and preventing Ayma’s legs from caving in. Then Thassta started up Ayma’s back, she could feel two points press and trail along her back. She realized the demon had taken off her metal top and was tracing her hardened nipples. Yet another strange feeling that added to Ayma’s false yet mouthwatering arousal.

The demon wormed her way up along her back with her tongue, catching any of Markon’s dribbles from earlier until she reached her shoulders, at that point she was practically laying on top of Ayma, her weight pressing down and Ayma hands strained against the cuffs still locked in the ring by the door. She could feel the demon’s larger cushions billow out along her shoulder blades. The succubus wrapped her arms around, running her fingers up and down her stomach and breasts. “O’vier my sweet, you have a lovely form, Markon chose well, you may last more than a few days before Markon gets rid of you!”

Ayma balked, unsettled “get rid of me, I’m…I’m going to die….!” she trailed off, almost accepting the finality of those words.

“Oh, don’t be so pouty, Markon doesn’t make full use of his female clients. As long as he controls himself…” Thassta said with a sigh, idly squeezing one of Ayma’s breasts. “He still has his code” She complained “…returns that Troll to that faction, that Night Elf to his own faction, shame really, just needs you ladies to stave off his afflict….um…forget I said anything” stave off what? Suddenly the whip keeping her rear up pulled tightly as Thassta tipped off Ayma’s back and swung herself underneath. The demon had wrapped her cloven legs together near Ayma’s waste and laced her fingers on the back of Ayma’s neck, pulling her head down. Ayma was suddenly caught inches away staring at the smiling succubus’s face as she stared back. Her eyes widened as Ayma was completely caught off guard, she unfurled her wings with a flap and wrapped them around Ayma in a warm embrace. The demonesse impressively hung on to Ayma with her legs, wings and hands with only her forked red tail touching the ground.

  
Ayma wanted to headbutt her but her neck was completely rigid from her shoulders being held up in chains and the demons laced fingers pulling her neck down. It didn’t stop Thassta from noticing her intentions “My, my, my! You really are aggressive” She started licking Ayma’s face. Their breasts pushed into each other; the demon’s larger ones billowed out around Ayma’s as she pulled up to reach Ayma’s forehead with her tongue. “You know…we could just…” she said in between each long, hot lick “…whip that aggressiveness…out of you easily….but Markov…” Ayma couldn’t move, her teeth clenched from the pressure on her shoulders and neck as Thassta worked on her nose and lips ”….doesn’t like….imposing that method…another shame” She finished, getting at Ayma’s chin. Ayma felt that feminine arousal being wrapped so tightly with Thassta and being licked, it felt so delicate compared to what any man could possibly do. The succubus started shuffling down her body, getting her neck and collarbone. Ayma felt like she was a statue being worked on by a stonemason as the smaller demon scaled her, her long, forked tongue making its blistering way down her collarbone to her tits.

The succubus readjusted to get at her belly, Ayma ended up with a small, wiggly demon butt in her face, the tiny strip of fabric kept Ayma from feeling completely lewd seeing another woman’s parts up so close. Thassta finished up her cleaning and gave one last, long lick between Ayma’s thighs. Thassta uncurled herself and stood up off to the side, exhaling at a job well done.

It was over.

Ayma eased that feminine tension that had been building up in her. She got a hoof down and started to push herself up, eager that it was over.

“Now for the fun!” Thassta clapped excitedly.

Then that little devil jumped on her back.

It wasn’t over.

“Ack!” Ayma’s hoof slipped out from beneath her and she collapsed back down to her original position on her knees with her hands and waist strained painfully again as the succubus’s weight pushed her down. Ayma could feel the heat of the succubus’s thighs as they trailed down the sides, hooves resting on the floor. Ayma blushed, she also felt the demon’s womanly folds pressing down on her back, she must have removed that string of fabric a moment ago. Thassta grabbed one of her horns and pulled her head up. She put her other hand on Ayma’s aching, tender sex and her fingers started dancing. It felt unnervingly similar to Markon’s, but that feminine touch still made the experience radically different. The succubus added to the assault of pleasures and started grinding up and down Ayma’s back, Ayma started feeling her back get traced with a hot wetness supplied by the demon as she increased her rhythm with her thighs while keeping up with her hand between Ayma’s legs. Electricity shot up and down her spine and Ayma could do little as the crescendo built into a devastatingly intense orgasm. Ayma gasped through clenched teeth, a moan slipped out. It felt as strong as the drug enhanced visit to the tub the night before or her very first time long ago.

  
Thassta was satisfied her work on Ayma was done and used Ayma’s tail and inserted it in herself and worked on her own release. Ayma barely noticed her appendage being used as she was continually racked by the female boosted orgasm. Thassta soon started breathing heavily as she kept pushing Ayma’s white tail in and out of her red wet pussy and she soon went into her own peak, breathing out with a massive, drawn out moan as Ayma’s settled down.  
Thassta got up unsteadily to her hooves and clipped her heavy metal chest piece back on. “mmmm” she hummed “didn’t you find that delectable? If you need more of an experienced lady’s touch, you know where to go. Though there is something for the men…”

“Get away from me” Ayma said quietly.

Thassta sounded genuinely hurt at that but couldn’t punish her under Markon’s rule. Her hooves clicked on the stone floor as she stormed out of the cell with an attitude. Ayma could hear her fidgeting with the chain, muttering to herself. Suddenly the chain went slack and Ayma’s hands holding her up suddenly gave out and she collapsed hard on to the stone floor. A bundle of cloth was thrown in carelessly and the heavy cell door was slammed shut, lock clicking. A hinge at the base of the door was opened and a platter of food and a cup for water was pushed through. Ayma heard Thassta storm down the hallway, quickly out of earshot.

Ayma laid there cold and naked, for a moment she wondered if Markon had more plans to terrorize her for the night. A few long moments passed and eventually she reached out timidly for the discolored brown and gray fabric strewn on the floor. She went through the rest and realized it was clothes, a small shirt and shorts with fittings and buttons designed to be taken on and off even with chains being worn. She put them on quickly, almost ravenously. The shirt fit tightly and didn’t cover her belly or reach her elbows and the pants didn’t go past her knees and felt rough against her tender skin. However, in that moment again that Ayma started crying, it felt so unbelievably good to wear clothes again. Tears streamed down her cheeks, she had been angry, frustrated, scared, terrorized, and had been brought down but she had not cried until now when she was finally alone. She hated this forest and she hated that man and his minions. She should have never been so eager to leave the Exodar alone on a distant quest the first place. She just wanted to be back in the crystal halls and be wrapped in Kolo’s arms.

Ayma blearily looked over at the food tray, it had a hand-towel that she quickly used to wipe off Thassta’s stiffening juices on her back and tail. She took the small wooden cup and filled it in the basin and drank heavily, clearing out her used throat. She couldn’t help but be puzzled that the cell was so barebones and basic yet had excellent plumbing. She decided to eat, risking that the food might be drugged and ate quickly using her hands. She then noticed for the first time a small jar on the tray, Ayma was shocked to see familiar Night Elf designs with leaves and owls. It was very similar to the jars at Farstorm Inn that Ayma had sniffed before having that intoxicating experience in the bathtub. She opened the jar, careful not to sniff any drug-enhanced fumes. It had a reddish pink color inside, with a similar consistency to the others Ayma had unwittingly sampled from Farstorm Inn. ‘Though there is something for the men…’ she recalled Thassta saying. Ayma almost wanted to go through with it, to make it all just go by and forget.

Never give up, never give in, a voice inside her warned.

She couldn’t afford to have her mind altered if she wanted to find a way to escape and she put the lid back on the jar. Ayma quickly tested the chains bound to her and she also verified the iron bars on the door and window were sturdy, she studied the rest of the small cell but could not find any weaknesses. . Escape seemed impossible with her bound to three different points in the cell. The chains looked like clean steal or iron and were properly bolted into the walls. The silvery manacles that were on her hands, ankles and neck was a complete mystery to Ayma. She had never heard of a metal where mere touch could completely cut off one’s access to the light, she had wondered if it was a magical block but Markon and his demons seemed to have no trouble interacting with the strange shackles. There was nothing more she could do now, she laid down on the wooden slab and tried the best she could to get comfortable with the small scratchy blanket and straw pillow. Ayma eventually drifted off to an uneasy sleep.

\--

In another part of Farstorm forest, far away from Markov’s isolated mansion, a man was traveling down a muddy path, low to the ground, mindful to his surroundings. He tracked up to a crossroad where he found what he was looking for, “this is where she fell” He pointed at a spot in the dirt.

A woman’s voice responded some distant behind, “We should go get a team of adventurers. Who was that loud woman that small party? She was crass but her party seems far more capable then the other denizens at that Inn.” She caught up to him as he took note of a faint outline where a body fell.

“Isabelle. She seems to have really taken a fondness for your kind” he mused. He took a closer look at his surroundings, taking into account a scorch mark on a nearby tree. “It looks like Ayma was only able to cast two or three spells before she was incapacitated, it seemed her assailant was over here” he indicated “…then somehow ported behind her here” he then pointed to a pair boot prints behind where she fell.

  
The woman seemed disturbed “This wasn’t the works of some dragon or greater demon. Even ambushed, who could have taken down one of Velen’s protégés so easily?”

  
His intracity designed black and purple cloak flapped from a gust of wind. “This forest holds many secrets, there are a few…” His voice faded, replaced by a certainty. He recognized the residual patterns where of a warlock-gate. It was him. But why…why did it have to be Ayma? “Markon.”


	6. [Chapter 5] Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Chapter 4 - Demons] Markon gives Ayma to his pet demons for their own pleasures (F Draenei x M Human x 2 Demons, Non-Consensual, Bondage, Gangbang)

Ayma dreamed she was wrapped in the arms of her childhood sweetheart. Her naked snow-colored back was pressed into his warm, navy blue chest with their legs intertwined, she had one leg bent and raised giving him easy access as he split her open physically and mentally.

“Kolo aye? I am glad for you, he is a good man.” The Draenei said with his quiet yet resonating voice.

She blushed at the thought of impropriety by being with anyone else besides Monad. “Please don’t ever leave me ever again. I…uhm…im not in a good place right n-now…” She choked through tears, not wanting to remember. A nagging voice inside her kept telling her ‘this man was long since dead to start thinking realistically’, it sounded strangely sounded like that woman Isabelle. She pushed the thought down, why was that damned human woman becoming her inner voice of reason? She just wanted to escape to this heavenly sanctuary.

Monad soothed her, kissing her along her neck. He left his shaft deep inside her, his subtle movements gave her thrums of ecstasy that arced up her spine. “Ayma I will always be with you, no matter what, you will be all right.” They snuggled closer together as they laid there on purple cushions, with the softest, most comforting blankets wrapped around them. A haze of white nothingness surrounded them. Where they in a building? It didn’t matter, she was safe.

The sound of knocking came from nowhere but alerted the Draenei and he stood up, leaving Ayma in the blankets, tendrils of light weaved around his body like clothing as he started walking away towards the nothingness, she still couldn’t see his face. “No wait!” She reached out, trying to get up but suddenly the blankets came alive and wrapped around her neck, arms and legs and pulled her back into the cushions.

He turned around for a moment and put a fist to his heart. “Remember, there is always hope, don’t give in!” a shroud lifted from his face and Monad gave her a brilliant smile one last time before disappearing into the light.  
The purple cushions turned to hard wood as Ayma cried out softly “Monad, don’t leave me!”

Ayma woke to a yellow, gangly imp hand squeezing one of her breasts through her brown, linen shirt. She suddenly grabbed a loose chains with her hand and with a flick the chain whipped and hit the groper in the chest.

“Ow!” the lanky creature squeaked, stumbling back, hands clutched to his chest where the she had hit him. Ayma sat up quickly and curled herself, pressing her back against the cold stone wall, chain still in hand readying for another strike. 

“You know, I thought Draenei would be..erm…bigger chested, I was just curious, you know…” the yellow Imp said, raising his opened palms in mock surrender. His voice raspy but low pitched like some goblins.

Ayma almost thought he was a goblin at first with the strikingly red and blue clothes he wore, with a green cap cut with holes for his thin horns. He was tall and willowy for an imp, with unnaturally long arms and high horns curling beside his pointed ears but still barely more the half her size. 

His hands turned to flames when she was about to strike him again with the chain. “Don’t” he said, then suddenly the chain became red hot and she dropped it with a cry. She expected further punishment but to her surprise, he extinguished his flames and apologized “I must have caught you by surprise, that’s on me”.

Ayma said nothing, mystified by the friendly demon. He continued on as he grabbed a plate off a cart she hadn’t noticed until now “The name’s Dapz. We’ve got a lot of work today. I got you some food, eat up and I’m sure this will all go over smoothly…” he said, placing the plate on the edge of her bed, wary of her hooves which Ayma which made her inwardly sardonic.

Dapz left her dungeon, saying he would be back in thirty minutes. Ayma could only guess at whatever ‘work’ he would have her do and slowly picked at her food.

Dapz returned more quickly than Ayma would have liked. And the imp had a familiar felguard in tow. “Don’t you dare touch me again!” Ayma shouted, backing herself up against the wall. Both Daps and the felguard looked confused.  
Dapz asked “Did he say anything?”

“His actions spoke louder than anything he could say now.” 

“So nothing. You met Xart. This is Marr” Marr nodded and grinned at the mention of his name. Ayma gave the felguard a closer look and could pick out the differences, his blue skin was slightly paler, and there were a few differences in the armor. “Seems like Xart stepped out of line, however Marr is under my command and won’t do anything of ‘action’ unless I say, but he sure will talk your ear off.”

Marr smiled “Your wish is my command” he said in a deep voice, with a rough edge he tried to smooth over. 

Dapz snorted. “Set Ayma’s collar and let’s go.”

“Alright let’s get these chores over with girly” Marr approached, towering over her and reaching for her collar and hands, clearly intending to bind them. They didn’t seem the least bit surprised when she refused in her own violent way. Marr took a few hits nonchalantly before pinning Ayma down. Ayma resorted to profanities next. The demon gagged her with a black mask, it had two black leather straps that were pulled tightly behind her skull, one under above her neck and the other under her horns. The straps were attached to two silver rings that rested on her cheeks which also connected with a smothering, flexible, black mesh that covered her lips and chin. Marr pulled at the dungeon’s chains and brought her into the same position the night before with her kneeling down and her hands above her head. She protested again against her mask which was useless. With her hands locked to the wall, and legs spread straining against their chains in a futile effort to lock them closed, somewhat like what Thassta had done the night before. Ayma knew they were going to do, to use her in that vulnerable position, that was what they were building up to.

Marr pined at Dapz. “She’s being naughty, can I make a rig then?” Rig?

Dapz responded “Another rope experiment?” Experiment?

“Yes, she should be a fine test subject, she has the right portions for a test” I’m not a test subject! 

“Not much of breasts to work with” Hey!

“I don’t need much, and there’s other parts I can use” what?

“Fine but be quick” Like hell you will. 

“Help me than, she’s still squeaking.” I’ll help you all to your graves! 

There was some shuffling as Marr left the dungeon cell, Dapz simply sighed “Why do you have to make this hard Ayma? We were going to just do some simple yardwork; the fun only starts later.”

Fun later? Wait, that was the first time anyone has said my name here, what more do they know about me other than just some random Draenei they caught in Farstorm-

They held her at the waist firmly, and then she felt them cut two incisions into her brown shorts on the sides of her sex, but her entrance was still covered. Than she felt Marr work a bunch of thin, black, finely waxed ropes across her body, connecting, crisscrossing, and tying them together quickly and efficiently around her arms, neck, chest, pelvis, and tail with two pieces of rope going over where they made the incisions between her legs, touching her bare, reactive skin. 

“Let’s get her moving” Dapz said, cutting off Marr’s recounting of how he had burned down some Tauren artifacts. Ayma found herself suddenly free of her cell’s chains and could move her arms and legs freely despite the layers of ropes, however Dapz also seem interested in Marr’s project and unconcerned with her freedom.

Ayma found out why. When they pushed her to walk, her first step left her gasping. The two thin ropes rubbed in opposite directions along her inner thighs, causing her body to react sensually to the moving ropes. 

“Keep going” Dapz smirked. Marr prodded another step out of her, making the two ropes rub again in opposing directions, they were so finely waxed that it didn’t cause any chafing or burning but the ridges gave a lot of texture to every movement. She tried grab at herself, but the rig was more confining than she realized. The rope looped around her hands and arms caused other ropes to painfully tighten all over her body and stop her hands from grabbing at her chest and legs or raise her arms above her head. 

They prodded her out of the cell and down the hallway, Marr clearly enjoyed his handiwork as the rope kept rubbing along the sides of her vagina, each step a sensual agony. Dapz just considered the whole thing slow. 

Unlike Xart from the day before, Marr was a very talkative felguard and told many quick stories of all the furious battles he had been in while he worked on Ayma. The face-guard gag prevented her from telling him to go fuck himself and tell a story about it while Dapz just grunted at the end of each story. The imp had clearly heard all the war stories before.

After many excruciatingly long hallways later, they passed through a heavy door and Ayma was suddenly squinting through the blinding morning sun. Her eyes adjusted and she examined at clearing around the low but expansive stonework mansion. They stood on a stone patio and before the group was open grass covered with fallen leaves. Freedom was the wall of trees just a hundred feet away. No fences, no walls, just open ground between Ayma and Farstorm Forest but she knew Marr and Dapz would stop her if she made a dash for it.

Marr obediently retrieved a lawn chair at Dapz command and set up an umbrella for Dapz to lounge. Marr than retrieved two wheelbarrows. Dapz told them to get ‘picking’ and summoned an ice glass drink from nowhere to sip. Ayma stood there dumbfounded. Pick what, the leaves? 

Then she saw Marr fish out between the leaves and pick out a disgusting, wriggling grub and toss it into his wheelbarrow, before going down and picking up another two in the leaves. 

Ayma gave a muffled yelp into her face gag as an explosion went off behind her. 

“Stop gawking and get to work.” Dapz snapped, another fireball building in his hand. Ayma crouched down carefully and started picking through the leaves. 

Ayma fell into a repetitive, strained rhythm. Every movement stressing the ropes around her body and grinded on her lower regions salaciously as she bent down and searched among the fallen leaves for more disgusting, yellow maggots. Marr already had a small pile building in the wheelbarrow, he put it in a cart and dumped the maggots on the stone patio next to Dapz, who with a fireball, lit the grubs on fire. “When Markon first ordered me to get rid of the maggots, I set the whole field on fire” Dapz explained “I got punished with the stiples for that” Dapz absently rubbed his gnarly arms in memory. He then picked up a charred maggot and crunched down on it. “Still, at least we can make use of something!” Ayma could hardly react, another time she would have been revolted, but her mind was hazy with the morning heat and the ropes making her vagina weep. 

At one point Thassta joined them below the stone mansion and munched on a charred maggot that Dapz had fired. The imp ordered Marr to get another seat for the succubus while she mused over the ‘delectable rope-work’ fitted on Ayma. At that point Ayma’s clothes were covered with a sheen of sweat, but it also hid the embarrassment between her legs. 

Ayma made a point to go far afield, Dapz and Thassta paid no attention as they shifted topics away from Ayma, keeping up a friendly conversation with each other unheard of from most demons. Ayma could still feel Marr’s attention on her however as he happily kept at his work picking grubs, Ayma moved closer to the dark, dense wall of trees that was Farstorm Forest. Freedom was just a twenty second dash if it weren’t for those aggravating ropes tying her down.

“Stay over here, girl!” Marr warned, Ayma backed up a moment. He was keeping still keeping an eye on her. 

“Pff she isn’t even using the lounge chair they made me bring” Marr grumbled. Dapz was completely preoccupied with Thassta sitting on his chest, tail waiving and a red hand lacing through the imp’s pants. 

Ayma waited until the fel soldier turned his back on her, sighing wisfully at the pair. She ran. 

Thirty feet. The ropes rubbed viciously against her sex and chest, making her gasp and slowing her down.

Twenty feet. Marr started shouting, Ayma didn’t care what he said.

Fifteen feet. She could feel the roots of the trees clopping on her hooves.

Ten feet. A wall of fire erupted in front of her. Ayma gasped at the sudden heat, a force of hit hitting her and knocking her backwards on to the ground, she cried out as she landed heavily, squishing her tail with pain lancing up her spine. The wall of fire evaporated as quickly as it appeared, leaving a line of charred and smoldering leaves falling all around her.

“A bit close there me’thinks” Dapz voice came right next to her. Ayma gasped at how close the voice was and twisted her body to look at the source standing next to her casually surveying to canopy ahead. He had portalled right next to her. 

“Well we got a lot done out here, im sure master will be alright, maybe, either way that’s enough excitement” He added over his shoulder as Ayma heard the heavy clomping of Marr’s running to catch up. 

Marr caught up, taking a moment to catch a breath as he sucked in air deeply. Ayma tried to stand to regain some pride but a quick snap of Dap’z fingers had a mini blast knock her down. “Stay down” an edge in the Imp’s voice.  
He went on, picking up his usual casual voice as if nothing transpired. “Will have to say, that was close, almost made it girl. Wouldn’t you say so Marr?” Marr caught up, catching himself on the other side of Farstorm Forest, hands on his knees puffing as all three of them stared at the dark wooded wall, one with a mild scholarly examination, one with puffing exasperation, and one with all her hopes being obliterated. “If Thassta hadn’t distracted me with the wiggling of her, uhm, chest, I would have reacted a bit faster” Dapz mused. 

Ayma looked back, Thassta was gone Did Thassta help her? Or was it another trick.

Dapz “Anyhow, we just about done?”

Marr wheezed “…We?”

“I DID torch the grubs” Dapz added helpfully.

“…cough…Yes but…”

Dapz cut Marr off “Well no worries, were done here, and no Tempest scorpions to deal with!” he reached down next to Ayma’s hoof and picked up some burned leaves, the charred remnants crumpling in his hand. “Hopefully master doesn’t notice the, uh…slight liberties taken here”

Marr added “Think he will let us take our….greater liberties then?” Marr coughed again at the smoke. An empty feeling washed over Ayma, she could only stare down at the burned leaves between her legs. So close. Ayma looked in to herself for a moment as Marr and Dapz prattled on, she would have never made it far into the forest anyway. 

The next few moments happened quickly. Dapz told Ayma patiently to get up and get walking back to the manor. The black mask muffled her response, everyone knew what she meant though. Dapz told her less patiently. She told the imp no. Frustrated, Dapz snapped his finger. Ayma flinched but it was Marr that howled in pain, thin swirling bands of fire quickly lashed around his hulking body, then disappeared in smoke. 

“Gah! What was that for?” Marr snarled, rubbing at his arms and waist.

“I got mad, wanted to hurt something” Dapz explained lightly.

“Why did you go after me and not her? You! Stop smiling.”

“I’m not smiling, however I am feeling good enough to-”

“-No, she is” Marr ripped off the mask, revealing Ayma’s harsh grin 

Ayma had to admit, seeing one of her captors bellow in pain dulled the shock of failing. Dapz examined a small flame dance on his hand “Punish her then, Draenei love ‘the touch’ of demons” Ayma’s smile dropped.

Dapz disappeared in flames with a sly command. “I’ll be in the keep, you can take few licks, but I’ll be the first…after master.” Marr snorted with a grin, the flame lashing forgotten.

Marr went quickly behind Ayma before she could react and grabbed at the rope mesh crisscrossing her body with a single arm and started towing her behind him as Marr casually strolled back to the keep with Ayma being dragged roughly backwards, squishing her tail painfully. Ayma tried to twist away but the ropes constricted painfully around her chest and groin making her cry out. Her thin, threadbare pants being pulled heavily against the base of her squashed tail.

“Hey let me up! It hurts!” Ayma pleaded, her butt already sore from being dragged, her legs flailing uselessly, and her arms unable to steady her due to the rope mesh tightening around her.

“No can do” Marr replied, not at all concerned as the small of her back hit painfully into the stone patio where manor met grass.

Marr clamped some loose chains hanging from the wall to her braces, and then with a few twists and yanks, the rope unraveled around her body. Ayma let out a breath of relief as the pressure was released. However Marr quickly added new problems by tightening the chain, forcing her hands up over her head and locking them together tightly, he then quickly and expertly used the rope and cable he had, bent her legs and tied a knot forcing her knees to lock into an uncomfortably tight position with her heals nearly touching her butt. “Don’t you dare-gaah!” Marr produced a cloth band from nowhere and gagged her, pulling and it tightly behind the back of her head.

Marr casually took off his spikey shoulder pieces and girdle, underneath was blood red heavy leather pants and with a brown vest that contrasted strikingly against his rough pale blue skin.

“You’re so pretty when you try to resist” Marr sung as a massive bulge formed in his pants, Ayma sputtered, unable to form words as the taste of cloth filled her mouth. The demon felguard knelt down “worked up more ways than one” he shoved his big meaty hand between her legs, she couldn’t squeeze her legs tight enough as he worked a finger through her thread pants and touched her sex.

“Still excited from my rope work?” Marr laughed, his finger took a swipe at her folds. A squelching sound came, he didn’t even really press his finger against her entrance, her canal had been completely engorged with her juices being worked up throughout the day and it was now at its tipping point. 

“How about a taste of your hard work.” He swiped at her crotch again with three fingers, her body arching at the rough, carnal touch. Marr brought his wet fingers up to her lips, her own feminine musk filling her mouth.  
The demon brought his hand down again inside her pants, this time pressing two fingers to the sides of her defiled entrance, her cum squelched out like a smashed fruit. Marr then used his ring finger and slowly wormed his way into her slick, prepared opening and easily slipping through. His finger was thick, thicker than some men she had. His sausage of a finger worked its way in gently but firmly until his knuckles pressed at her entrance. Ayma’s breaths became shallow. He pulled out quickly then slammed all the way back in without finesse. Ayma’s back arched and her head snapped up involuntarily towards the uncaring sky.

Marr grinned “so reactive”. He savagely pushed deeply into her a few more times, and then added a second finger and starting twirling his fingers inside her, Ayma convulsed against her confines, her eyes tearing up. Marr then got in close, she could feel his hot breath on her, Ayma thought he was going for a sloppy kiss, they were so close. Instead he went for her cheek, licking off the tears that streamed down her cheeks, his wet tongue sliming over her. The felguard was about to go at her other cheek when the door to the side opened, Marr stopped immediately and stood up quickly but adopted a casual stance.

It was another Felguard. Ayma couldn’t quite remember what Marr and Dapz called him as the other felguard stepped forward, a slight look of irritation on his face. 

“Dapz said I could have a few licks...I was just finishing up anyway” Marr said. Besides Marr’s lack of armor, the demons looked identical to each other. 

The other demon merely folded his powerful arms. His skin did seem a tad bit darker…

“No worries, will go immediately, I’m even helping her off this wall!” Marr said brightly. He unlatched her from the wall and unknotted the bindings on her legs and prodded her into a standing position, Ayma gave an inward sigh of relief when she was able to straighten her legs. However her arms were still tied behind her back.

Xart strode forward and reached for her neck, Ayma tried to take a step back but backed right into Marr who grabbed at her bound arms and held her in pace. “I think you’ll like her, she’s a struggler.” Marr added. 

Xart said nothing and hooked a rope to Ayma’s collar. Marr pushed her forward as Xart led her to the door, luckily the simple cloth gag came undone and fell off, Marr sighed amd went for the black face mask but then noticed Ayma was not shouting or cursing, in fact, she was stone silent as Xart led the way back to the mansion. Ayma took a glance towards the sun, its brilliant light giving her one last comfort before Xart pulled her forward into the darkness of the mansion. 

Xart finally spoke, unlike Marr he did not try to smooth over his rough voice. 

“Time for fun”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second part of chapter 5 coming soon.


	7. [Chapter 5] Interlewd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Ayma is being tormented by her captors, others are looking to recruit Isabelle, the strongest mercenary around to save Ayma but she will need to take some convincing [Plot point, Consensual, Reluctance, MxF]

Isabelle was getting tired of all the interruptions during her bedding some man or woman, but to be fair, it was all the time. Before that person barged into her borrowed room in Farstorm Inn she was getting rammed in the ass by a massive Tauren cock.  
“Oh by the light!” Isabelle yelled out as they collided in massive slaps of skin and muscle. She was on her hands and knees as she felt the bull’s hot breath wash over her back and up her neck, his massive hands wrapping chest for stability and feeling out her features that were large for a human, but barely filled his massives hands.   
Isabelle felt the Tauren lean into her, adding more power to his desperate, savage thrusts the way she liked. Dorath was his name. “Take it….take it all…for the earthmother!” Dorath growled, bringing his massive slab of hard meat out to the tip, with the head barely touching at the surface of her anus, before slamming it savagely all the way back in.  
“Augckk!” Isabelle yelled out in pure ecstasy and pain, each sensation trying to override the other. Her head was nearly shoved into the bed by the force of Dorath’s thrust, her dark red hair cascading into the sheets.   
Isabelle laughed “it will take more than that to bring me down”. She swung a leg around and hooked it over Dorath’s neck and threw her weight into a spin. Thrown off balance, Dorath got flipped on his back in surprise and Isabelle jumped on top of him, the tauren was easily three times her size but her vast experience in combat and love making had taught Isabelle the finer points of positioning and momentum could be far more lethal than just brute force.  
Isabelle grinned “My turn!” Dorath’s surprise turned into a grin back to her as he rested his head back while she positioned the tower of hard cock on her snatch. Dorath was so big her knees rested on his muscular stomach rather than the bed itself. Like all Tauren men, th wasn’t tapered at the end like most other species she had experience with, it plumed out slightly and gave a flat, gushy surface at the end that gave a full impact of his girth on entry. She went down quickly anyway, having already scouted his size out with her anus. Dorath groaned in surprise as she went down two thirds of his length easily, the last third proved more difficult, since he was so wide and big, but Isabelle covered by thrusting her hips back and forth, riding the tauren and worked her wave to the rest of his length, reaching his massive balls.  
“So…tight!” Dorath grunted. Isabelle thrust her hips back and forth, her own breathing getting heavy. The Tauren reached up instinctively and cupped her breasts in his hands and massaged them. Most men wouldn’t be able to get their hands completely around her big ladies, but most men (and a few women) weren’t Tauren.   
Isabelle was breathing heavily, a bead of sweet ran down her forehead. That gargant of a cock of his was reaching her cervix. She had long ago turned that pain of getting pushed deeply into pleasure when a cock big enough could burrow that deeply but this was so dramatic that she could see a sizable bulge on her stomach every time she went down to the base of Dorath’s member. “You truly are a bull” Isabelle breathed out. Isabelle was being stretched beyond her limits, and she kept going.  
Dorath with his eyes closed in ecstasy tried to laugh, but all that game out was a sigh. “I’m…I’m going to cum…”  
That’s going to be a bucket, Isabelle thought. His precum was already soaking the sheets, her own wetness hardly helped with the small river flowing out of her entrance and around Dorath’s rocks. Isabelle could feel his body start to truly tense up, he was coming real soon. Her own desire was building up as well.   
And of course the door opened in the moment Isabelle was letting out her signature “Yes! Yes! Give it to--oh by the light!” Do they really always have to walk in at that moment? At least she was facing towards the door this time and saw the fat innkeep Stowney peer in. Dorath didn’t know until Stowney spoke “I have some guests asking fer’yea Isabell”  
Dorath blanched and tried to get up. Isabelle was in no mood to have another evening ruined and put a hand on his face, shoving Dorath back down, any typical female woman would have just been thrown off by a Tauren bull like Dorath but Isabelle was no ordinary woman. “Stay there, you’ll be fine, just a few people joining us.” Looking up, Isabelle followed up with Stowney “And what exactly are they ruining my otherwise perfectly fine evening for?”  
“Mercenary work, they lookin rich too” Stowney replied. Undisturbed by the scene in front of him, it was business as usual for the both of them.   
Isabelle could feel Dorath’s giant sexcalibur start to soften inside her “Who?” she growled in irritation, her peak was also fading and she slapped at her pussy to keep herself engaged.  
“A Draenei lady and a strange rogue asking lots’a questions about that first Draenei girl coming through and asking for you personally, apparently you had contact with the first girl and they want to know more, and that they might want your services. Also that rogue gives me the slinks.”  
Interesting!  
“Alright sounds fun, send them in”  
“What!?” Both Dorath and Stowney reacted, incredulous.  
“They sound bold, and they asked for me, I’m sure they can handle it. Not worth my valuable time if they don’t. Tell them if they don’t meet with me now, they won’t be able to set an appointement for the next two weeks” Isabelle was fully open with what they had to say if they came though, It wasn’t every day she could interact with a Draenei, and if it had to do with that fun goat girl Ayma, then Isabelle was all for it. She just didn’t want to lose out on another fun experience, Isabelle pulled herself off of Dorath’s softening rod and started working at it with her hands, her fingers barely able to lace around Dorath’s insanely wide girth. She started working up and down the length and was able to coax some hardness back in with her experienced fingers.  
“Well…?” Isabelle reiterated to Stowney.   
Stowney muttered and disappeared from the doorway. Dorath at least was starting to play along cautiously and was no longer trying to escape, but he was obviously unsure how to proceed. That was fine, Isabelle could take the lead. She started coaxing him back to his original hardness with her tongue.  
Isabelle heard the clicking of hooves, The Draenei. She barely heard the quiet footsteps of the human rogue. Isabelle moved from her tongue to her chest, allowing her to look up as she heard the pair reach her room.  
Isabelle saw the rogue first as he quietly entered the room instantly recognized the purple expensive embroidery though it was dirty with travel. He didn’t say anything about Isabelle thrusting her hips and grinding herself up the side of Dorath, also the hood partially covered his face and his reaction and simply folded his arms, waiting for his partner. How disappointing.   
The Draenei was much more fun.   
She gasped, jumped out of sight, then reluctantly entered, averting her gaze as she uncomfortably approached, taking a position by the shorter human. The man is tall Isabelle reminded herself, but the Draenei woman was of average size for a Draenei, which was extremely tall compared to most other races. Isabelle compared this new Draenei to Ayma, Isabelle noted Ayma would have been quite petite for a Draenei, even though she had towered over Isabelle who was short herself. The Draenei wore gold and purple plate armor that fit her form nicely which Isabelle approved of. The Draenei woman with a sword and book belted at the waist, the book gave away that she was a paladin, her skin was blue and her hair was white, the opposite of Ayma’s, though Ayma’s hair was a darker blue compared to this woman’s skin color.   
The man wore tight fitting leathers typical of a rogue with wicked daggers sheathed at the waist. His cloak though…  
Daroth broke the momentary silence “Hi, I’m Daroth, I can’t get up, but please don’t judge me for my current state, I didn’t exactly know about this, also…I like your horns” the Tuaren grinned, looking upside-down at the spectators from his position on his back, at least he was relaxing to the hilarious situation Isabelle threw him into, she might keep him around after all.   
Isabelle noticed the Draenei’s horns, she hadn’t met many Draenei but she could tell the horns were unusual in how they curved back over her head and then curved up out the sides. “oh…uhm…thanks! I am Yrel.” Yrel said blushing at the compliment, her Draenic accent was light and cute, mixed with unsureness, but Isabelle could feel the strength and resolve the Draenei exuded in everything else. So different from Ayma, Isabelle thought. The priest Isabelle had met a few days earlier spoke with confidence, but everything else showed how alone she was. The only similarities were how they both reacted to Isabelle’s laissez-faire manner. Prim Draenei.  
Isabelle got to the point “Well, you have come to me of all people, why?” and she also got to Dorath’s point, he tried to suppress an unmanly moan.  
The man spoke “Because you’re the best in these parts, if not the continent if people knew better”, his voice was even as he held her piercing gaze with quiet indifference as Isabelle’s hands and hips worked on Dorath and starting to get his river of precum flowing again.  
Isabelle wanted to confirm her suspicion “and who are you, I’ve seen you somewhere before, a few days ago perhaps.”  
“I am here to help Yrel, I was simply at the inn returning from an unimportant mission a few days past.” Well that doesn’t give much away and throws all the responsibility to Yrel. Ok. Isabelle took pointed at yrel, a trickle of Dorath’s liquid flicked off Isabelle’s dripping hand. “And you, explain.”  
Yrel gulped, “I am here to follow up on Ayma.” Her eyes danced around Isabelle, trying to avoid how Isabelle was kneading Dorath’s gloriously huge, hot and heavy nutsack. Yrel continued, “An administrative oversight, the council did not realize Ayma had never been on a quest outside the Exodar before.”  
Dorath sucked in his breath, and it wasn’t in response to Isabelle rubbing him up. Isabelle didn’t hold in her own shock as she stood up “I knew she was a novice! What the hell were they thinking!? Don’t they know Farstorm Forest is one of the most dangerous places in Azeroth?”  
Yrel shook her head “They did not, they are still new to your world and your uhm…” Isabelle was standing up on the bed in annoyance, and also incidentally giving Yrel an even more full view of her. “…features.”   
Dorath connected the dots before Isabelle could. “And if you are here to recruit Isabelle, something must have gone wro-ghhack!” Isabelle sat on his face, shutting him up.  
“You, be quiet and make better use of your mouth” Isabelle ordered.   
The rogue finally spoke up again, Isabelle nearly forgot he was there “It is true, I noticed Ayma in the Inn with you. I sent a portal message to the Exodar and was able to get details of her mission” A portal message, not cheap. Unlike typical portals that could move you physically from your location to a predetermined place a mage had previously learned, it could be linked from any point to another and a conversation could take place without having to attend physically. It wasn’t easy to get, especially out here, this man has access to some serious resources Isabelle guessed.   
“Oh and did you explain to them just how fucking problematic it is to send a novice?” Isabelle reemphasized with that curse, but she also hid how turned up she was in that exact moment when Dorath’s tongue penetrated her up her vagina to lick up more juices.   
Yrel winced, Isabelle wasn’t sure if it was the cursing or Dorath energetically cleaning Isabelle out. “To an extent” the man replied, unperturbed “Ayma was a Velen’s ‘chosen one’ so they had more faith in her capabilities. Fortunately Yrel had arrived to our world from the Blasted Lands and for once we had a free agent to spend so we were able to bring her to Farstorm Forest within two days.”  
“I saw you the day before Yrel, wouldn’t talk to me” Isabelle sniffed.  
“I was in a hurry to meet up with Ayma.” Yrel said quickly, she still couldn’t get comfortable holding a conversation with Isabelle, though it could also be that in that moment Isabelle was trying to stuff Dorath’s huge staff into her crotch again, the fact it isn’t tapered makes the initial entry so difficult.  
“You couldn’t find her, but you found something that had you come running back to Farstorm Inn scared.” Isabelle guessed.   
She started easing herself back down Dorath, still unbelieving how massive he was, Dorath groaned in appreciation but then grunted out “is she dead?”  
They both shook their heads, not that Dorath was really in a position to see them easily still on his back. “We think she was taken by a warlock named Markon, which means she could still be alive.”  
“Markon” Isabelle said, she would have had a cold sweat trail up her back if it wasn’t for Dorath carving a path of fiery glory through her insides.  
“Who is Marko-guhh!!” Dorath groaned again in appreciation, not realizing Isabelle had lost focus and unintentionally went all the way down the length of his shaft. Ayma…so young….  
“Have you met Markon before?” The rogue asked, curious. Yrel was looking on with wide, shocked eyes, her own curiosity was more of a morbid variety trying to figure out how Isabelle fit Dorath’s staff in and ride it up and down. Isabelle was riding Dorath up and down on instinct, mostly to distract her mind.  
“Not directly, I’ve heard that he used to operate in Farstorm Forest before I started working in this region and gave the local adventures trouble. He is not your standard Warlock, I don’t know how he does it but he can control multiple demons at once and each from what I have heard are individually extremely powerful, but he also has a taste for women…” Isabelle shuttered, which Dorath exhaled at on her quick, vibrating movements. “I thought he was destroyed, or at least banished from this world, but if he’s still be operating in Farstorm Forest, he hasn’t made his presence well known.”  
“Um ive heard a lot about Markon, how have you not heard Isabelle? It is well known and he’s dangerous” Dorath muttered, Isabelle ignored him, Yrel didn’t see it but the rogue did not miss the implications of what Dorath said, including Dorath himself.  
“Exiled, yes” For the first time the man seemed uncomfortable, how odd. He changed directions “Will you accept our offer to join, we shall pay well for services rendered for you and any individuals you wish to add” He proposed formally. Isabelle nearly rolled her eyes, he certainly wasn’t letting her current circumstance distract him.   
The man said nothing of his observation of Dorath’s words “He is strong, but we know his location in the forest, or at least where he resides which gives us an advantage. Everyone has a price, especially mercenaries” He then offered a sizable sum of gold, a sum much higher than most contracts she entered into.  
“And you want me to enter a hostage situation and kill Markon, that’s a search and rescue mission, not easy.”  
“Well we would prefer capturing Markon as well and keeping the situation quiet”  
What was his stake in the matter? Isabelle narrowed her eyes “No way, this isn’t worth the gold” He tried to offer a higher sum, but Isabelle shook her head. To dangerous just for gold…  
Dorath breathed out “I’d like to come” His breathing was getting heavier with Isabelle’s hands running along his chest as she rode him.  
“You can’t cum inside me just yet, I haven’t finished negotiations” Isabelle said irritably   
Dorath started “I meant ‘come’ with the PARTY!” He ended with a growl, his body was tensing up though, and he would be cumming soon.  
“I have to keep the team small and elite, warlocks of Markon’s variety can’t easily be creeped up on, I have to carry these two along, too much risk bringing a lumbering oaf like you Dorath”. Isabelle eased off Dorath and sat on the side of the bed, Dorath made a complaining noise both at her remark and action but she silenced him, rubbing her head in frustration.  
“We are not incompetent” the man defended.  
“But you need me.”  
“Yes. We do.”   
“However if I remember the rumors correctly, Markon liked doing terrible things to the women he took but he didn’t kill them, you are just buying me to bring him to justice” Isabelle didn’t like the sound of that defense even when she said it. “And to keep things quiet for who knows why.”   
The rogue responded “We have reason to believe he very much will take measures to ensure that what he has done will remain silent, Ayma is in real danger . There is no one else who can match the needs of the mission in this vicinity, and yes, to keep things quiet, we would like to Ayma’s honor intact” Isabelle could detect he wasn’t telling the full truth, there was another motive to keeping things quiet.  
“Please, for Ayma’s sake!” Yrel pleaded, at least the paladin’s motivations were straightforward and sincere.  
“I’m sorry goat girl, I like Ayma but I don’t really know her, and after all, im a merc” Isabelle said, then almost to herself “It’s not personal” it did hurt though. She didn’t like that Ayma had gotten herself into trouble but Isabelle had been a mercenary, you couldn’t say yes unilaterally to every sob story, you would end up broke or dead. However to be raped and then killed off was not an easy way to go out of this world, not something that would sit on Isabelle’s conscience easily if she could help it.   
Isabelle looked at the rogue, his frown deepened and then to Yrel’s wide, pleading eyes…It’s just not enough for just gold and a little bit of thanks.  
“Uh, well, thanks for the fun Isabelle” Dorath mumbled, breaking into the negotiations. His massive rod starting to soften, all her work starting to ebb away as he sat up next to Isabelle. “You are very cute Yrel and I hope you find a way to help your friend.” Yrel blushed again.  
Isabelle grinned and put a hand on Dorath’s chest, stopping him from reaching his discarded clothes. Gold wasn’t the only thanks she could get for payment…  
She pointed to Yrel. “You. If you want my help on this mission, take your armor and clothes off”  
Yrel’s cute glowing eyes went even bigger “What?”


End file.
